


The Swan Prince

by unbirthdaydance



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbirthdaydance/pseuds/unbirthdaydance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Minho woke in a garden. He felt very strange.</i>
</p><p><i>A moment later, the reason why became inescapably apparent. He had wings instead of arms and feathers instead of hair. His neck was long and arched, his face small and </i>beaked<i>, and when he walked, he waddled on webbed feet.</i></p><p>
  <i>“Figured it out yet, sweet prince?” came a low and lazy voice from just behind him. “How do you like being a swan?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a retelling of the animated film. It's probably not the most original thing out there, but hopefully it's entertaining anyway.

* * *

**MINHO**

Minho was born the second son to an ailing queen and an aging king of a minor coastal kingdom. His mother died soon after his birth, her death ending a politically important alliance between her former kingdom and the one she’d married into.

This proved to be unfortunate, for not long after the queen’s death, an evil enchanter rose an army and moved against the king. The army was crushed only with great difficulty. The enchanter himself vanished after his army’s defeat and did not return. His mysterious absence caused a great tide of fear to swell among the citizenry.

In order to shore up the kingdom’s security situation, the grief-stricken king promised his newborn son in marriage to an infant prince of a richer southern realm. To ensure goodwill between the two new allies, and to allow Minho to become accustomed to the land that would one day become his home, it was arranged that he would spend every summer in the castle of his future husband.

These yearly visits began when the two little princes were five years of age. They did not go well at first, for neither had any liking for the other. Minho adored playing with toy soldiers, learning the very basics of hand-to-hand combat and rolling in the mud. Kibum, his betrothed, preferred dolls, sewing lessons and hounding the castle cooks for scraps of cake. None of their interests coincided.

The only activity they enjoyed doing together was play-wrestling with rather more vigor than their parents would have liked. As a child, Minho felt it very unfair that delicate, pretty little Kibum would always without fail trounce him and leave him with bruises for weeks after these matches. It stung his pride that Kibum neither knew nor cared about learning how to punch properly, and yet once managed to knock one of Minho’s teeth out after swinging his little fist into Minho’s face.

Year after year went by and the animosity between then simmered. Each child resented the summer’s coming, and each could do nothing to prevent it.

As they grew older, their dislike turned to pranks, taunts and childish fights. Minho left spiders in Kibum’s sheets, only to scream later upon discovering that Kibum had returned the spiders to Minho’s own bed. Kibum found the secret fort Minho liked to play siege in and destroyed it by gluing frilly pink lace everywhere. They drove their parents to tears of frustration one particularly terrible night when ten-year-old Minho ‘accidentally’ knocked a candle onto Kibum at a fancy banquet, only to have Kibum screech with rage and _bite_ him in return.

In the end, Minho was never quite sure how to pinpoint exactly _when_ this changed. Maybe it was a gradual process of maturity overcoming ingrained childish dislike. Maybe it was when Kibum finally swallowed his pride at fourteen and asked Minho for help in the archery lessons he was forced to take as part of his princely upbringing. Maybe it was the way Minho started noticing at sixteen how _distractingly_ Kibum’s leggings clung to his ass and thighs during their riding lessons. Or maybe it happened when Minho found himself irrationally annoyed every time seventeen-year-old Kibum flirted shamelessly with the castle guards.

Maybe it happened when they were eighteen, and Minho’s first sight of Kibum for the summer was that of him curled up on a windowsill reading a book, every line of his face lovelier than anything Minho had ever seen before. Maybe it was the way Minho’s heart raced at the sight, especially when Kibum lifted his head to smile in greeting and shyly gestured for Minho to sit down beside him.

Maybe it happened when they were nineteen and kissed for the first time, awkward and hesitant beneath one of the flowering trees in the castle gardens. It was certainly only then that Minho became aware of the change, of how he’d abandoned all pretense of _you’re so annoying, go the fuck away_ to _you’re so perfect, let me hold you in my arms forever_.

In any case, it did not particularly matter when it happened. By the summer of their twentieth year, Minho was fully ready to admit that he had fallen truly, deeply and irrevocably in love with the bane of his childhood existence.

~~~

He showed his love in every way he could. As such, a day spent together might go as follows:

Minho woke early in the morning to go for a long run. He generally ran alone, or perhaps with one or two of the castle guards he was friendly with. After this was done, he went straight to the weapons fields to practice his archery, fencing and hand-to-hand combat. It was expected that every member of a royal family understand the arts of combat, as they might one day need to defend their own lives against assassins.

Kibum was supposed to join him at this weapons practice each day, but in truth only showed up perhaps twice a week or so. Minho’s betrothed deeply hated anything involving physical exercise, and much to his mother the queen’s consternation, found military matters boring in the extreme. Nor did he like rising early; if he could manage it, Kibum would laze about in bed 'til nearly noon.

Minho did not mind this; he found it cute. After his morning weapons practice, he would talk the castle cooks into making Kibum’s favorite breakfast foods and would often bring Kibum breakfast in bed. They fed each other and enjoyed tea in the late morning sunlight, basking in each other’s company.

Later, they might wander through the gardens, or lay in warm fields of grass and cloud-watch. If it happened to rain, they would curl up together in the library and read each other tales of legends from long ago. Minho liked the stories of warrior heroes who battled dragons and fought great wars to defend the honor of their true love. Kibum preferred tales of magical enchantments and strange occurrences, of genies and trickster foxes, clever thieves and plot twists.

They could not, of course, ignore their duties as princes, particularly since Kibum was the heir to his mother’s country. When affairs of state grew too troublesome, Minho distracted Kibum from worrying overmuch about political concerns by sweeping him up in his arms and carrying him to bed, whereupon they occupied each other for long periods of time with touches and kisses and breathless laughter.

And each day, Minho fell a little more in love.

~~~

As the end of that summer neared, Minho brought up the subject of their impending marriage with Kibum. They were to be wed at some point in their lives, after all, why delay it now that neither harbored resentment towards the other any longer?

Kibum’s eyes went wide with panic at the suggestion, but the more Minho discussed the idea, the more he seemed to accept it. In the end, Kibum agreed that they ought to inform their parents that the wedding would be held next summer.

Minho spent the week after their discussion drowning in joy. It would be painful indeed to leave his home and come to live with Kibum, but Minho felt ready to do so and was more than eager to spend his life with the prince he’d come to love.

The day before Minho’s entourage was scheduled to depart, however, Kibum broke Minho’s heart.

It happened in an instant, a mere second ruining what years had spent building. Minho turned a corner of the castle, intending to find Kibum and ask him if he wished to go walking in the gardens when he came across Kibum and a minor court noble kissing feverishly. The noble had Kibum pressed up against a wall, and Kibum’s hands were skillfully unfastening his secret lover’s trousers as he moaned openly into the man’s mouth.

The couple broke apart almost immediately, but Minho fled, unable to stand the sight of them. He passed the rest of the day locked in his rooms, chest tight and eyes burning. Kibum came to knock on his door and offer desperate excuses, but Minho did not listen. There was no excuse that could soothe the pain in his heart.

It was no wonder Kibum had been reluctant about the idea of marrying as soon as possible.

~~~

Minho departed from the castle early that next morning. He rode in a carriage with his father and did not answer the king’s concerned questions about his reddened eyes and miserable silence.

(Kibum had not been part of the farewell party. Minho wasn’t sure if his absence was more painful than his presence might have been.)

He closed his eyes and sought to sleep for the long hours it would take their entourage to pass through the city and into the thick forests beyond.

~~~

The attack came without warning.

One minute, the procession was making its way down the dark path at the heart of the wild, thick forest, two weeks journey away from the southern city at the slow carriage pace. The next, an animal, which resembled a bat but was a dozen times larger, screeched angrily as it slaughtered horsemen, guards and servants.

Minho ordered his father to stay put and leapt from their carriage, sword in hand. He ran to assist the guards in fighting off the creature. The bat screamed at the sight of him and proceeded to tear the captain of the guards in two, right before Minho’s horrified eyes.

The fight was short. The creature had attacked too suddenly for the guards to mount an adequate defense, and its skill was considerable. In less than a minute, Minho and two other surviving guards were the only ones left to draw sword and arrow against the thing.

Then the creature caught Minho’s arm in one of its mighty talons and flung him against a nearby tree. Minho’s head cracked against the tree trunk, and he blacked out.

~~~

Minho woke in a garden. He felt very strange.

A moment later, the reason why became inescapably apparent. He had wings instead of arms and feathers instead of hair. His neck was long and arched, his face small and _beaked_ , and when he walked, he waddled on webbed feet.

“Figured it out yet, sweet prince?” came a low and lazy voice from just behind him. “How do you like being a swan?”

Minho turned around and nearly fell over from the effort. A man of indeterminate age stood there, dressed in colorful, styled garments that were the fashions of a decade long past. His features were neither plain nor handsome, but forgettably in-between. His eyes were the most noteworthy part of his countenance, for they flashed and gleamed with some nefarious inner fire.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” the man continued, in the same low and lazy drawl. “I've abandoned the name I was born with, but you may call me Rothbart. I'll need another name soon, of course, when I acquire your father’s kingdom.”

Rothbart! Minho knew the name. This, then, was the evil enchanter who had risen an army against Minho’s father all those many years ago

“Ah, you recognize me,” said Rothbart, his drawl deepening into a purr. “Good. That makes this easier. You see, you're here so that I may ask a particular question. Will you marry me, sweet prince?”

The thought of marriage reminded Minho of Kibum, and the memory sent a sharp twinge of pain deep inside him. He ignored it and vehemently shook his head.

“I thought that might be your answer,” Rothbart said. He sighed. “Shall I explain further, love? You're here as my captive swan. Only at night, should you be on the lake with moonlight against your wings, will you ever turn into a human. Once the moonlight leaves the lake, back into a swan you go. This can, of course, be remedied if you accept my offer.”

Minho shook his head again. Rothbart sighed once more and stroked his beard.

“I'm not asking you this on a whim, sweet prince. You see, I've killed your little entourage, including your father the king, and will very shortly dispose of your brother as well. That leaves you the heir to the throne, does it not?” He smiled. “Do you see where I am going with this? Marry me, and I will rule your kingdom for you. You need not trouble yourself with affairs of state. Only accept my offer, and you will live richly alongside me as I make our kingdom great.”

Fear and grief sparked inside Minho at these words. His father, dead? His brother soon to be killed as well? This was no speech to persuade him to accept marriage. This was a speech to incite him to hate.

In any case, Minho was not the sort to let another rule for him. Even if he had not been the one groomed to take the throne, betrothed as he was so young to an heir to another kingdom, Minho took his responsibilities seriously. Should he find himself the king, he would sooner die than allow another, let alone _Rothbart,_ to rule his land.

Rothbart only chuckled at his refusal.

“It will no doubt take you some time to accustom yourself to the idea,” he remarked. “In the meantime, I do hope you enjoy your time as a swan. Until you accept my offer, it is all you will ever know.”

He vanished then, without even a curl of smoke to mark his going. Minho bowed his head and shook with grief and rage, for swans could not cry.

~~~

He spent the first few days lingering by the water’s edge, too mired in depression to even eat. He only drank when Rothbart forced him to, the enchanter insisting that he could not have his future spouse die of dehydration before they were even wed.

Minho had nothing during those first awful days to distract him from the horror his life had suddenly become. His father and all those he had known in their procession were dead. His brother was likely to die soon as well, slowly and painfully, for Rothbart had mentioned something about poison one night.

Minho might have thought of Kibum to ease his pain- but that was before Kibum had betrayed him and wounded him so deeply. The thought of Kibum hurt almost as badly as everything else. There was nothing, therefore, to comfort Minho in his pain and give him strength.

Nothing until he woke on the sixth day of his imprisonment to find a duck and a frog staring at him with an uncanny intelligence glimmering in their eyes.

Upon noticing that Minho was awake, the duck bowed and, wonder of wonders, _spoke_.

“Greetings,” it said solemnly. “My name is Jinki.” It tilted its head at the frog. “And this is Taemin.”

“Heya,” said the frog.

Minho stared. Without thinking, he spoke, though he was still in swan form:

“You’re a _duck_.”

“Yes,” said the duck. It apparently understood him perfectly though even Rothbart could not understand Minho’s speech while in swan form. “I suspect you are alarmed at the fact that Taemin and I are intelligent and can speak and understand you?”

“Something like that,” Minho agreed.

The duck ruffled its wings and cocked its head in a manner reminiscent of a human smile.

“Strange things happen around an enchanter’s castle,” said the duck. “Many of the animals around here have gone strange to some extent, myself included.”

“As for me,” said the frog, with an expression as close to smug as a frog could get. “I am a prince. I will return to my true form once I am kissed by a beautiful princess.”

“Or prince,” said the duck, fluttering its wings again.

“Yes, but I like princesses,” the frog objected. “Princesses with beautiful long hair, flowing in the wind-”

“Princes can have long hair,” said the duck in the tones of one who has had this argument far too many times. It returned its attention to Minho. “Please, ignore him. We are here to cheer you up, not to make a nuisance of ourselves.”

Minho sighed. “I thank you for your kindness,” he said in dull tones. “I’m afraid I’m not very good company, however. Please leave me be.”’

The frog blinked rapidly at him with bulging, staring eyes. The duck sighed.

“Very well,” it said. “We have listened to the enchanter gloat over the terrible things that have happened to you and understand that you must grieve for your father and brother and friends. Do know that being alone will not help your grief. If you need a friend, we are here.”

~~~

It took time for Minho to accept that he was not in fact imagining the duck and the frog’s existence. By the end of the first month, however, he found himself grateful for their company. They could distract him from the terrible grayness that had consumed his soul. Without their presence, he felt no more inclined to live or move than the fallen tree branches littering the overgrown, unkempt gardens of the enchanter’s castle.

As the months passed, his grief lessened. The fourth or fifth month of his captivity found him exploring the castle grounds and truly noticing for the first time how beautiful the lake and castle were. The gardens themselves were mostly a slightly tamer version of the woods and forest they connected to, but there were remnants of a time when they had not been wild lingering about, such as benches tucked into groves of trees and half-sunken stepping stones here and there.

Jinki and Taemin showed him the safe paths through the gardens and went swimming with him in the lake. They told him stories of their lives, Jinki’s slow and peaceful, Taemin’s wild and likely untrue.

Minho did not talk about his own life, for he could scarcely bear to think about it. He allowed himself to enjoy his conversations with Jinki and Taemin and to look forward to the nights when he could become human again, even if the coming of night meant that he had to endure Rothbart’s presence and endless entreaties.

He was not bored by the lack of excitement. He found it difficult to care about anything still, even his mild pleasures filtered through a lens of numb misery. His refusals of Rothbart’s proposals came to be more stubborn habit than anything. Minho could not see any difference between rotting away in this forest as a swan or rotting away in his own castle as Rothbart’s toy and puppet.

He’d had a reason once, though, before he’d lost himself in depression. Minho clung to that.

~~~

It was perhaps the ninth month of his imprisonment when Jinki asked him if he knew how to break the curse on him.

Minho replied that he did not; Rothbart had only ever said that he would end the curse when Minho agreed to marry him. There was no way the curse would end otherwise.

Jinki informed him that this was nonsense. All curses had a way to break them; it was part of the laws of magic.

Minho did not ask how Jinki knew this. A duck and a frog who lived in such close proximity to an enchanter’s castle knew a lot of things Minho had learned not to question.

And so that night, more to assuage Jinki and Taemin’s curiosity than anything, Minho brought the subject up with Rothbart once he had returned to human form.

“A way to break the curse?” said Rothbart. He laughed. “Could it be that you are taking an interest in life again, sweet prince?”

Minho did not deign to answer. Rothbart laughed again and condescended to explain.

“There is indeed a way to break your curse, love, though it won’t do you any good.” His smile went nasty, became cruel at the edges. “Your true love must make a vow of everlasting love and prove it to the world. Immediately thereafter, he must kiss you to seal the vow.” The enchanter’s smile tilted into an outright smirk. “And we both know that your weakling prince will never do so, don’t we?”

Minho bowed his head and did not speak. Rothbart was right. Kibum would never come to rescue him, which would be necessary if he were to make and prove such a vow. Kibum was not the sort to venture into magical forests and do battle with evil enchanters. Minho couldn’t imagine him in the role of valiant hero. It did not suit his personality, interests or skills. If Kibum even attempted the feat, it was likely he would die trying.

Of course, that was assuming that Kibum even loved him enough to try. And Minho knew very well that he did not. Theirs was a one-sided love, a hopeless devotion on Minho’s case to a man who did not return his feelings. Kibum did not love him, Kibum was not coming to rescue him, and that was all for the better since Kibum did not have a chance in hell of succeeding in the impossible chance that he might consider a rescue attempt.

And all _that_ was assuming Kibum or anyone else even knew he was alive in the first place. If the rest of the procession had been killed, it was likely everyone believed him dead. It was probable that _no one_ was coming for him at all.

~~~

It was the last explanation that Minho used for Jinki and Taemin later. It hurt too much to describe how he knew that Kibum didn’t love him.

“The curse won’t be broken,” he told them. “My true love can’t kiss me or make any vow while I’m stuck here, and since everyone probably thinks I’m dead, he won’t come to find me.”

Jinki and Taemin considered this. Then Taemin said:

“You never know. Love does funny things to people.”

Minho laughed. It sounded raw and bitter and jagged even to his own ears- or whatever passed for ears on a swan.

“Even if my true love _did_ think I was alive, he would never survive or try a rescue attempt,” Minho said. “He’s not the outdoorsy fighting sort.”

Fortunately, both Taemin and Jinki seemed to accept this statement. They spent a moment in quiet conference. Then Jinki raised his head and said:

“Well, if no one is coming to rescue you, I guess we’ll just have to break you out ourselves. The three of us can probably manage it somehow, right?”

~~~

Minho was very dubious about the idea at first. A swan, a duck and a frog did not seem much of a match against an extremely powerful evil enchanter. Yet Jinki and Taemin kept pestering him about it until Minho finally gave in and agreed to lend his expertise to developing an escape plan.

The first problem they encountered was that even if they did manage to escape Rothbart’s clutches, they did not know where to go. They did not even know _where_ they were. Thus, acquiring some sort of map had to be the first priority.

However, acquiring a map meant breaking into the castle to search for one. Rothbart might not have any minions lurking about, but an enchanter was certain to have numerous security spells entrapping the place. They would have to work their way inside very carefully and once in, continue to be very cautious as they searched for a map.

It was slow work that took months to complete. And yet, with each expedition into the castle and each close shave with a spell that nearly caught them, Minho felt his interest in life returning. There were things to _do_ , things that involved spying and cleverness and danger. Minho did not feel _happy_ , precisely, but it became easier and easier to find a reason to get up in the morning as the months went by.

It became easier to remember Kibum as well. Perhaps the finality of acknowledging to himself that Kibum would never love him made the memory of their time together somehow sweeter. Minho found himself longing for the days when the two of them had played together, reading and dancing and walking through the gardens before everything had gone to hell.

He discovered that he missed Kibum. His captivity would be much less dull if it had included Kibum’s sarcastic, clever wit as well as his laughter and sense of unerring fun.

Once he managed to escape, undoubtedly there was no chance of those months of joyous love ever returning. But perhaps, somehow, they might find their way back to being friends. Minho would like that. If Kibum’s betrayal and their subsequent separation had not burned Minho’s painful love out of him, he did not think anything would. And Kibum’s friendship and company would be a more than adequate substitution for his returned love.

~~~

When finally they found a map, they next had to decide what to do with it. Some experimenting had proved that Rothbart had made no effort to cage Minho inside the castle grounds with any spell. Likely the enchanter expected him to be too depressed still to attempt any escape. Thus, it would be most efficient if Minho and Jinki flew away to find help.

Where would they go? It was decided after much conferencing that they would return to the kingdom of Kibum’s mother. That kingdom had much in the way of an army and would be very effective in searching out Rothbart and killing him. It was also very close, if the forest could be persuaded to cooperate.

Taemin, of course, objected to this entire plan. He was of the opinion that the three of them should just figure out a way to kill Rothbart themselves.

Jinki and Minho firmly vetoed this idea. A whole troop of guards had not succeeded at that task. Minho’s father’s _army_ over twenty years ago had not succeeded at it. It was highly unlikely that a swan, a duck and a frog would be able to rid the world of the evil enchanter alone.

And so, thirteen months after his capture, Minho set off with Jinki to find the southern kingdom and arrange a strike against Rothbart.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**KIBUM**

There were quite a few things in life that Kibum had never expected to happen and yet did anyway.

The first of these things occurred when Kibum was seventeen and realized that he liked making his childhood nemesis jealous by flirting with various castle guards. He thereupon realized further this perhaps indicated that he did not hate Minho nearly as much as he thought he did.

The second unexpected occurrence in Kibum’s life was, of course, when he discovered that Minho had ceased to hate him as well. While the first unexpected event had been uncomfortably thought-provoking, the second was quite nice, especially when the cautious peace between them blossomed first into friendship and then into romance.

The third unexpected event occurred one sunny morning when instead of offering kisses and tea, Minho began their breakfast conversation by introducing a serious discussion about marriage.

Kibum protested against the idea at first, for he did not wish to marry Minho now or any time soon. It was not that he didn’t like Minho. He did. At times, Kibum might even have confessed to loving him, though his pride made it difficult to admit such a reversal in his former feelings for the other prince.

The problem was, however, that Kibum was young and therefore free and did not want this youthful freedom to end. So long as he and Minho were only betrothed, the chains of marriage were a nebulous future event and did not bind them in truth. They could play as they wished, with whomever they wished, and if Kibum wished to play with Minho it was not because he _had_ to, but because he _wished_ to.

If they were married, that would change.

It soon became clear, however, that Minho would not be deterred from the subject, and so Kibum gave in with as much grace as he could. It would take many months to prepare a royal wedding, after all- a year of them at least- which would grant Kibum a good amount of time to come to terms with the idea and resign himself to his fate.

~~~

This might indeed have been the way of it had Kibum not then spent the week following that initial discussion in a state of utter panic.

He had good reason to panic. The court’s endless talk of the impending wedding was inescapable. No one would stop going on and on and _on_ about it. Kibum could not, try as he would, avoid it. He could not even complain to Minho about the smothering pressure to discuss marriage, marriage, marriage, because Minho was no longer his ally in resenting the future wedding.

Kibum tried not to resent _Minho_ for this. He truly did. Minho was kind and selfless and truly devoted to those he loved. He was traditional in every way. It made _sense_ that he would accept the idea of marriage once he came to love Kibum. Minho was like that.

It made Kibum feel terribly, horribly selfish every time he acquired the desire to brain Minho with the hilt of his own sword whenever the subject came up between the two of them. Kibum did not want to think about marriage, let alone _talk_ about it. He was only twenty-one. The whole affair felt as if his life was ending before it had even had a chance to begin.

Kibum did not tell Minho about his fears. He did not even try. He couldn’t bear to shatter Minho’s illusions about him. Minho thought Kibum loved him with equal, fiercely devoted force. And Kibum _did_ , really, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get married _now,_ or _do_ anything about the love he was still reluctant to admit he felt.

But there was no way to explain this to Minho without hurting him deeply. Minho saw marriage only as the natural outcome of the love they shared, rather than as an eternal, looming contractual obligation. He would take Kibum’s reluctance as a sign that Kibum did not return his love, for what other reason was there to panic over being wed?

And as Kibum could not bring himself to deliberately cause pain to his betrothed, he kept quiet about his true feelings on the matter.

~~~

The panic built and built inside of him until it burst like a dam overflowing and led him to impulsively make one of the worst decisions of his life.

He left a wedding discussion between himself, Minho, their parents and several dozen courtiers with his chest tight and his breath fast and painful in his lungs. The wedding was a year away. Did they really have to discuss flower arrangements and invitations _now_ and with such awful _enthusiasm_?

Did _Minho_ have to be so happy about the flowers? Kibum missed the days when his only comfort about his betrothal was the fact that his betrothed hated the idea every bit as much as he did.

He wandered the castle, shivering and agitated. He could not concentrate on anything. His mind was full of a panic that flooded through him and made his fingers shake. He wanted to calm down and did not know how.

“My lord? Are you all right?”

Kibum paused, turned and eyed the handsome young noble who’d spoken to him. It occurred to him, feverishly overwrought as he was, that he would never again have the chance to be single and young and pretty, with a castle full of suitors eager to bed him for a favor. A faraway fiancé was one thing as far as such matters were concerned. A husband in the castle with him was quite another.

And, true, he did have a year to do something about this, but Kibum wanted relief from his panic _now_.

“I’m fine,” he therefore said sweetly, with all the flirtatiousness he could muster. He fluttered coquettish eyelashes at the noble and was much satisfied when the youth promptly flushed and stammered and turned very red.

It was easy to take hold of the handsome young noble and drag him into a back corner of a castle. It was easy to kiss him and touch him and defiantly enjoy the fact that betrothed Kibum might be, but he wasn’t chained down in marriage quite yet. He had a year to sleep with whomever he so pleased before he was forced to be faithful for decades and _decades_ , and he was damn well going to exercise his freedom now while he still could.

And then all such panicked desire fled when Minho caught them together in that back corner of the castle. The look in Minho’s eyes was more than enough to drive all of the desperation out of Kibum and replace it with sick shame. No amount of messy blow-jobs with people he could care less about was worth hurting Minho so badly, last chance at freedom or no.

~~~

Minho would not listen to his explanations. Kibum could not, in truth, blame him. He felt an irrational resentment against Minho anyway for not listening to his excuses, as well as for being so set on the marriage in the first place. Kibum knew that this was selfish of him, and yet his shame at his selfishness only fanned the flames of his anger hotter until he was furious at everything- himself, Minho, their parents, the noble, _everyone_.

He did not go to bid Minho farewell the next morning. He was still too angry and embarrassed to be able to bear it. He instead went and threatened the unfortunate young noble again to ensure his silence, then locked himself up in his room and cried angry tears of frustration.

The days passed, but his misery did not. If anything, it grew worse as his anger faded and left only the guilt behind.

Kibum’s best friend and advisor, Jonghyun, was of less than no help.

“You know, figuring out how to apologize when you see him again would be a better use of your time than moping about in here,” Jonghyun would say upon finding Kibum sprawled on his bed, staring miserably up at the stone ceiling of his room. “If I may say so, please _get your shit together_ , my lord.”

The problem was, Kibum did not know how to apologize. He didn’t think he _could_. Even with a year between them to soothe the hurt, Minho would never understand why Kibum had done what he had. And without understanding, there could be no forgiveness.

At the same time, as they _were_ to be married, they could not go back to hating each other as they had when they were immature children. Some compromise would have to be reached next summer, and Kibum did not know how it could be.

~~~

Two months after Minho’s departure, word came to the castle that he, his father and their entourage had been attacked and killed in the thick forests just outside Kibum’s city.

It had taken that long for Minho’s brother, ruling in his father’s stead, to realize that the procession was extraordinarily late, dispatch search parties, wait for the search parties to find something and send word back to Kibum’s mother the queen. And they had indeed found something: the procession slaughtered in the woods and the king dying in a ditch.

They had not found Minho’s corpse, only the chain he’d worn around his neck in memory of his mother. Nor had the king’s dying ramblings made much sense- something about a ‘great animal’ ‘not being what it seemed’ or some such nonsense. Most of the court barely paid attention to these details and instead commenced straightaway to mourning.

Kibum mourned for exactly three days, in which he wept inconsolably and refused all food and comfort. The deaths of all those in the procession were terrible enough, but the fact that Minho had died knowing that Kibum had betrayed him was salt in that most awful of wounds. Kibum had never hated himself more deeply, nor grieved under the onslaught of such terrible anguish.

Then, three days of tears later, Kibum ceased to mourn for Minho. He refused to. If there was no body, then clearly Minho was not dead. Never mind that the body might have been eaten by whatever animal had attacked the procession or that the creature might have flung the corpse deep into the woods. Kibum would not believe Minho was dead. The animal _must_ have kidnapped him, and never mind logic or what anyone else thought.

And so Kibum vowed to rescue his lost prince, even if he had to do it alone.

~~~

He did not have to do it alone. Jonghyun immediately offered all the aid he could give to Kibum’s rescue efforts. This touched Kibum deeply, for he knew that Jonghyun did not truly believe that Minho was still alive.

His friend and advisor proved particularly useful in helping him scour the library each night for information on a great animal that might not be what it seemed. They followed their research by questioning everyone they knew for any scrap of rumor on such an animal. Knowing that the animal resided in the forest where the procession had been attacked, Kibum talked some of the castle hunters into teaching the two of them all the ways of navigating the twisting magical paths of the wild forest, both on horseback and on foot.

Kibum himself practiced archery, sword-fighting and other forms of combat with the weapons tutors, applying himself to every martial art he’d hated and avoided seriously practicing for years. As he lacked the innate strength for some of the techniques he’d set himself to learning, he woke early each morning to run and work out in order to increase his endurance and ability to handle the physical aspects of his training.

He drove himself harder at these tasks than he ever had at anything before, knowing as he did that he would need every last scrap of training in order to eventually defeat whatever creature had taken Minho captive. He went to bed sore and exhausted month after month, hands slowly callusing from sword-hilts, horse reins and ever more powerful bows.

He hated the training, of course, as he had always hated anything which involved sweat, mud and physical exercise. But embroidery and etiquette would not save Minho, and so Kibum forced himself to focus on what would, no matter how painfully difficult combat lessons and the like might be.

It was only thanks to Jonghyun that he did not drive himself into exhaustion within a month. But Jonghyun looked out for his prince and forced him to eat, sleep, pay attention to his other duties and even _relax_ every once in a while.

Ever so slowly, Kibum’s skills began to improve.

~~~

As the months passed, they taunted him with Minho’s absence.

Throughout the years, Minho’s father had sent letters describing his son’s activities in the non-summer seasons to Kibum’s mother. The past few years had seen Minho sending letters of his own to Kibum in accompaniment to his father’s. Minho’s messages had been filled with awkward endearments and endless boring descriptions of archery tournaments, but Kibum had carefully folded each one and kept them safe in a box beneath his bed anyway. He’d kept the box locked and told no one- not even Minho- of its existence, too embarrassed by his sentimentality to do so.

There were no letters this year. Kibum wished that he had told Minho how much he’d liked receiving them, but he never had.

Other things mocked Kibum with their lack of Minho as well. The library became a painful reminder of the times he and Minho would choose tales of stories to read to each other. The gardens brought to mind their daily strolls through the graveled paths. The castle kitchens would sometimes serve Minho’s favorite dishes at formal dinners, whereupon Kibum was forced to excuse himself to go cry quietly in his room, haunted by the sight of steak and those awful vegetable soup mashes Minho had loved so much.

Sometimes during these bouts of tears, Kibum would take the locked box from beneath his bed and read through the old letters Minho had sent him, eyes tracing each carefully formed character as if doing so could bring back the deep warmth of Minho’s voice.

And each day, he missed Minho more.

~~~

A year passed, and they had still found no sign of Minho, nor any information on the creature which had taken him.

Kibum’s mother took him aside one day with a grave expression on her face.

“My son,” she began, her eyes very solemn. “I understand that you are still grieving for your lost prince, but-”

“I’m not grieving, Mother,” said Kibum. “Minho’s not dead.”

The queen sighed. “It’s been a year and still you have no trace of him. Kibum, I understand that the two of you quarreled the night before he left, but that is no reason to kill yourself with all this training. It would be better if you accepted that he is no longer alive and moved on. Guilt cannot-”

“It’s not _just_ guilt.” Kibum tried with difficulty to rein in his temper. “Mother, he’s _alive_. He needs help.”

She shook her head. “I know you,” she said. “You have some scenario in your head that you will rescue him, and he will fall into your arms with words of forgiveness, and you will proceed to live happily ever after. Kibum, he’s _dead_. You must face the truth.”

“I don’t have to face anything I don’t want to,” Kibum said stubbornly. “Minho’s not dead. And you’re wrong: I hurt him badly, and I don’t expect him to forgive me at all. But better he be safe and free to hate me than locked up somewhere as the captive of that _creature_.”

The queen sighed and left off her arguments. There was nothing she nor anyone else could do to convince Kibum that Minho was no longer around to save. Even Jonghyun had long since given up trying to gently talk Kibum out of his fixation.

~~~

And so Kibum continued to search and to train and to renew his vow each night that he would find Minho and set him free, no matter the cost. He did not listen to the murmurings of the court, which whispered that their crown prince was slowly going mad from obsession over a love lost.

His mother the queen ignored Kibum’s determination and began to make arrangements for a large ball to be held the month after summer’s end. She intended to introduce Kibum to potential suitors from all the nearby kingdoms in hopes of finding him a politically advantageous match to replace his betrothal to Minho.

Kibum himself was very against this idea, insistent as he was that Minho was still alive and only waiting for rescue. But the queen paid no attention to his wishes and proceeded with the plans to host the ball anyway. She could not allow her son’s irrationality to threaten their kingdom’s future.

~~~

Thirteen months after Minho’s disappearance, Kibum finally found the key to the mystery of the great animal.

He ran immediately to find Jonghyun and inform him of the discovery he’d made while looking through a particularly obscure book in the back of the castle library. There was no time to waste. Minho had been a captive thirteen months already, and who knew what kind of tortures he might have been put through in that time?

“I found it!” Kibum gasped, skidding into the small office where Jonghyun managed things as part of the royal advising staff. “Look, here-”

He slid the book across the table. It fell open to a page entitled _The Artes & Sorceries Relating to the Alteration of Species_, with an illustration of a mouse shifting into a giant, fire-breathing dragon.

“It’s a shapeshifter,” Kibum said breathlessly. “That’s what the king meant. The great animal must be a person who can take different animal forms!”

Jonghyun frowned. “You realize that this doesn’t help us much? We still don’t know where it lives or anything. Besides, what would a _shapeshifter_ want with Prince Minho?”

“I don’t know,” Kibum said grimly. “But I’m going to find out. There’ve been rumours about strange animals wandering around the northern forest for years. I bet some of it is because that shapeshifter lives there.” He tapped a finger against the illustration of the dragon. “Get your gear ready. We’re heading out now to find it.”

“ _Now_?” said Jonghyun incredulously. “But it’s-” He glanced up at Kibum, only to find his prince’s eyes full of determined fire. He sighed. “Never mind. Let me find someone to deal with this stuff, all right? I’ll meet you in the stables in half an hour.”

Kibum twitched impatiently as if half an hour was much too long, but he nodded in acceptance. There was, after all, a good deal of paperwork and administrative nonsense to be done at the moment, given that the impending ball was to take place tomorrow night.

Kibum still did not want to attend the ball, but he really had no choice in the matter. It was his hope that if he could find a solid lead on Minho today, his mother might at least be _slightly_ less likely to shove him at every potential marriage partner she could find tomorrow night.

~~~

Kibum decked himself out with as much armament as he could carry for their trip. He was not planning on confronting the shapeshifter quite yet; they would need more information and some careful strategic planning before they could hope to do that. Still, even in a venture mostly intended to find the shapeshifter’s lair and acquire that information, there were many things that could go wrong, and it was best to be prepared for any eventuality, including a dangerous fight.

Jonghyun grumbled about everything as he followed Kibum’s lead and strapped himself with his bow and quiver of arrows, sword and an assortment of daggers and throwing knives. Kibum ignored his friend’s complaining and started saddling up his horse. He then attached two lighter axes to the saddle in case they might need to hack their way through underbrush or broke their swords.

“I feel like I’m going to war,” Jonghyun muttered as he fixed a coil of rope to his own horse’s saddle. “My lord, is it _really_ necessary for me to haul seven knives along?”

“Yes, it is,” Kibum said promptly. He patted his horse’s neck, frowning. “I have twelve. Do you think I should take an extra quiver or-”

“I think you’re fine.”

Kibum nodded and reached for the extra quiver of arrows anyway.

Jonghyun sighed.

~~~

They rode through the city streets and in under an hour reached the outskirts of the forest. Most people kept to the well-travelled main roads, knowing that if they strayed off the path, the forest was likely to shift around them and prevent them from ever finding their way back.

Kibum had not spent a good deal of his life being forced to learn woodcraft as part of his princely upbringing to be daunted by this, however. He knew how to navigate the dangerous magical wilderness without getting lost forever or eaten by terrible creatures. And his past year of intensive training had taught him to be as silent and deadly within it as any hunter.

They stayed on horseback for a while as they followed various hunting trails about. It would not be unusual for anyone to see the prince and his advisor riding in hunt, after all. They did so quite frequently in order for Kibum to practice his skills.

One method of which to find anything in the forest was to focus specifically on it. Thus, Kibum held a picture of both Minho and the mysterious shapeshifter in his mind as he and Jonghyun prowled through the trees. The magic of the woods would lead him to the subject of his concentration eventually, and in faster time than would have been otherwise possible, as time tended to pass oddly here.

It eventually became obvious that the hunting trails they had always followed before were of no use to them in searching out the shapeshifter. They found their way to an abandoned cabin where they had occasionally spent a night during past hunting trips and left the horses tethered there.

Then they made their way off of the faint, ever-changing hunting trails and into the true wilderness beyond.

~~~

It was getting very late by the time anything unusual happened.

Kibum could tell that Jonghyun was tired, as he hadn’t had much sleep the past few days due to the ball preparations. Kibum himself was so wired on the idea that they might finally have a lead on Minho that weariness was the furthest thing from his mind.

They flowed silently through the thick underbrush, noticing the fleeting movements of rabbits, deer and a variety of birds overhead. None of it caught Kibum’s attention as strange, although of course they were hunting a shapeshifter who might take any form.

The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky when Jonghyun pulled Kibum to a stop.

“It’s getting late out,” he said gently. “Maybe we should go back.”

Kibum angrily yanked his arm away. “No.”  
  
“My lord, _please_. We can come back another day. Prince Minho has been captive for _months_. Another few days won’t hurt him.”

Kibum’s jaw set stubbornly. They proceeded to argue sharply with each other, defeating the purpose of their previous concentration on hunting silently. This incensed Kibum further, for Jonghyun did not seem to care about the noise they were making, likely because he knew that Kibum knew that it would make their hunt more difficult, and perhaps thusly hoped to persuade Kibum to give up the search.

Then, suddenly, a tree branch cracked loudly overhead, sending birds screaming away in reproach. Kibum whirled and strung an arrow across his bow as he did so, eyes flitting about and tracking for movement.

A swan fell out of the sky.

There was a still moment where Kibum’s brain made the jump from _what is a swan doing so far away from water?_ to _fuck it must be the shapeshifter_. The swan hovered in the air for a split second as Kibum’s mind made the connection, then began to fly straight at him.

Kibum loosed the arrow.

To his astonishment, a duck fell out of the sky after the swan and knocked it to safety just before Kibum’s arrow skewered them both. Kibum’s eyes narrowed; so there were _two_ shapeshifters, were there?

A rustling in the tree branches drew his attention again. The duck and swan were flying straight up out of the tree cover in an attempt to escape. Kibum could still see them, however, in between the gaps in the leaves.

Ignoring Jonghyun’s cry of _My lord, wait-!_ , he plunged through the forest after the two birds, reaching for another arrow as he did so.

~~~

Kibum remembered vividly the chase through the forest. He made careful note of the landmarks he passed as he ran, knowing that if he did not memorize the path he had taken, he would be lost forever and unable to find his way back.

It was difficult indeed to chase a pair of high-flying birds through thick tree cover, but Kibum managed. His training had not been for nothing.

Oddly, the birds attempted a southern flight path first, before sharply changing direction and fleeing to the northwest instead. Then they proved themselves to be very clever, far cleverer than any normal birds had a right to be. They led Kibum past rocky cliffs where he had to slow his pursuit to scale rock walls, and over rushing rivers where he had to detour to find a shallow crossing. The birds ducked into the setting sun several times to obscure Kibum’s vision, often conveniently as they led him past high water and dense thickets of trees.

Kibum did not lose them, not even after it grew dark and difficult to see a swan and a duck flying in the sky. He was sweating and exhausted by the time he managed to follow the birds to their destination, a tall stone castle with many towers by a smooth and beautiful lake.

Truly the birds must be shapeshifters. Why else would they flee a hunter, only to lead him to this manmade, isolated place?

The duck dove into the still waters of the lake before Kibum could fire an arrow at it. The swan landed gracefully on the surface of the water, half-folding its wings as it did so. A moment later, it craned its head to look up at the cloudy night sky.

Kibum wasted no time. No sooner had the swan extended its neck upwards than Kibum had drawn and strung his bow. He aimed his weapon at the swan with careful precision, a quiet fury simmering within him.

This was the shapeshifter who had slaughtered sixty men and taken Minho captive. It deserved no mercy.

Kibum loosed the arrow, intent on his kill.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

**MINHO**

As their journey to the southern kingdom stretched on throughout the day, Minho found himself extraordinarily glad that Jinki was accompanying him. The top of the forest looked entirely the same in every direction, and had Minho been flying by himself, he surely would have soon become entirely lost.

With Jinki’s unerring sense of direction, however, they made good time indeed, although they had to stop and make course adjustments several times. Jinki knew how to fly directly southeast, but as he could not translate the map’s scale into a duck’s instincts, their progress was still impeded by various pauses, backtracking and shifts of direction. Still, they were nearly to the edge of the forest by late afternoon, and Jinki assured Minho that their return flight would be several times quicker since he now knew exactly where he was going.

It was during a lull between occasional rounds of conversation that Minho heard human voices echoing from the trees. Eager for something to distract him from the tedium of flying, he strained his hearing in order to discover what a pair of presumed hunters could possibly be shouting about this deep into the woods.

It shocked him when, although he could not make out precisely what they were saying, he could recognize the tenor of the voices. To his astonishment, he recognized one of the voices as an advisor and friend of Kibum’s by the name of Jonghyun, who surely had no business wandering about this far into the wilderness. 

The other voice took a moment longer to sink into Minho’s brain, even more profoundly unexpected as it was. And yet, despite it being the last voice he would ever have anticipated hearing on their flight to the southern kingdom, there was no denying that he knew whose it was. Minho would recognize Kibum’s familiar voice anywhere, even here.

He had no idea what on earth Kibum and Jonghyun could be doing out this far in the forest. He didn’t care. Thirteen long months of separation from Kibum was no match for common sense and self-control. It was not within him to calmly continue to fly south and leave Kibum behind, not when the other prince was so  _close_ , his voice ringing audibly through the air.

Minho wanted to see Kibum again. No, he  _needed_  to see Kibum again.

“Minho,” said Jinki nervously, hovering on a draft of air beside him. “Minho, what are you doing-  _no, stop!_ ” 

Minho ignored him as he dove from the sky and into the trees, wincing as his wing cracked on a tree branch on his way down. Kibum was here. Kibum was  _here_. It had been over a year since they had last laid eyes on each other, and the sheer force of how much Minho missed his betrothed momentarily drove out the memory of how awful that last sight had been. He felt like an addict from the opium dens, drawn inexorably to the source of his  _need_ , even though he knew that Kibum was unlikely to welcome his sudden appearance.

He forgot entirely in his overwhelming desire to see Kibum again that he was currently in the form of a swan. 

Minho tumbled out of the trees and caught himself midair. His gaze focused on Kibum’s own- and he froze with shock. 

The sight that had shocked him so was not just that Kibum was dressed in the hunting clothes he had always before disdained. Nor was it just that Kibum was aiming an arrow at him, drawn on a bow much stronger than Minho would have thought him capable of wielding, with a steady, lethally accurate aim.

It was the look in Kibum’s eyes, a look focused, sharp, ruthless. It was the look of a hunter not only ready to kill, but ready to  _enjoy_ that kill. There was no mercy in that flat stare. It was a frightening expression, one Minho had never seen before. 

Not on his sweet  _Kibum’s_ face, anyway.

It did not matter. Minho was too caught up in his desire to be close to Kibum again to let the shock process through to its logical conclusion. He instead attempted to fly forward, beak opening to cry words of welcome as Kibum let his arrow fly.

It was therefore only thanks to Jinki that he survived the next few seconds. The duck knocked him out of the way just before Kibum’s arrow whizzed with deadly accuracy right through the space where Minho’s heart had just been. 

“Stop being so reckless,” hissed Jinki. “Come on, let’s  _go_  before he kills us both!”

“That’s Kibum!” Minho objected. “He’s the one I love-”

“Yes, and he’ll have an arrow through us  _now_  if we don’t fucking  _go_!”

Jinki rarely swore; it was a mark of how serious the situation was that he did so now. Minho wasted no more time but took off straight up and away from Kibum, Jinki following.

They at first attempted to continue flying on their original path towards the southern kingdom. The arrows whistling up at them from the forest below soon made a change in plan necessary, however.

“Retreat!” Jinki yelled as an arrow nearly clipped his wing. “ _Retreat_!”

They turned and fled back in the direction of Rothbart’s castle as quickly as they could manage. Jinki tried every trick he knew to escape Kibum’s arrows, including flying directly at the sun and over deep rivers and steep cliffs, but it was to no avail.

“He’s fast,” Jinki panted as they flew, wings beating frantically at the air. “And good. I’ve never been hunted by anyone as talented as that guy. I thought you said he wasn’t the outdoorsy type!”

Minho did not reply. He was frightened, confused and absurdly proud. Kibum had  _not_  been a good hunter and had never had any interest in learning to be so. Minho did not know what could have changed, but as terrifying as it was to have Kibum trying to murder them both, he could not help but be deeply impressed by his skill at doing so.

The forest shifted beneath them as night drew closer, perhaps sensing their urgency. In barely an hour, they were within sight of the castle again. 

“Quick,” said Jinki as they drew nearer. “You must land on the lake. The moon will show your true form, and you can tell him to stop  _shooting at us._ ”

“I will,” Minho promised. His exhausted lungs desperately sucked in air, making it difficult for him to speak. “You should hide once we get close enough.”

“Oh, believe me,” Jinki said fervently. “I intend to.”

Once they reached the edge of the lake, Jinki dove into the water and swam away. Minho alighted on the lake’s surface and proceeded to extend his wings a little so that the moonlight could land on them and transform him into a human once more.

Nothing happened.

Horrified, Minho looked up, only to find a cloud covering the moon and obscuring its reflected light.

_No_ , he thought, panicked.  _No, no, no…_

A crunching sound from the lake’s edge caused him to look sharply at the tree line. Kibum stood there, his bow drawn and ready to fire. His eyes were focused on Minho with that same flat and merciless stare and remained so even as he released his arrow.

Just before his fingers let the arrow fly, however, Taemin launched himself out of nowhere and landed on Kibum’s wrist, impairing his aim. This sent the loosed arrow harmlessly zooming away to Minho’s side, where it fell into the water with a small splash.

Kibum snarled, dropped his bow and drew a throwing knife from his belt. Taemin leaped hastily away, and Minho’s breath caught in his throat, hoping that the frog would manage to escape before Kibum could throw his weapon- 

And then the clouds shifted, and the moonlight fell upon him.

The transformation took hold of him with a rush of water, dragging him first up, then under, then up again as his bones contorted and stretched with a painful clarity. It took several seconds of nothing but bright lights and glowing water before the curse’s effects faded, and Minho could see once more, save this time with human eyes.

Kibum was still staring at him, throwing knife in hand and ready to fling. His expression seemed caught between the look of a hunter intent on his kill and blank incomprehension.

“Kibum,” Minho said hoarsely. He was glad that the spell had left him dry, despite the fact that it had needed the water to take effect. He was shivering badly enough as it was. “Kibum, it’s me.”

“Minho…?” Kibum whispered. “No, it can’t be- there was a  _swan_ -” 

“A curse,” said Minho, explanation at the ready. “I’m a swan unless the moonlight on this lake touches me, and even then I turn back into a swan by the end of the night.”

Kibum shook his head in refusal. “No. You’re a shapeshifter. And there was that duck as well-" 

“The duck’s a friend.” Minho took a cautious step forward. “Kibum, I  _promise_  it’s me. Ask me any question, something only I would know.”

Kibum’s gaze didn’t waver; neither did his hold on the throwing knife when he finally spoke.

“What happened between us the night before you left?”

Minho flinched at the reminder. He answered anyway.

“I came across you kissing someone else,” he said quietly. “You came to my door that night and made excuses, none of which I accepted.” He added, softer still: “You never said farewell the next morning.”

It was Kibum’s turn to flinch. He slid the knife back into its sheath, his hands shaking as he did so.

“It really  _is_  you,” he said. His voice shook every bit as much as his hands. “Only the three of us know what happened that night.”

Minho did not respond. Instead he looked at Kibum, looked at how his shoulders filled out the fabric of his tunic as if he’d grown more muscular since they’d last seen each other. He saw how Kibum looked back at him with wide and longing eyes, and yet remained trembling on the lake shore as if he was afraid of the reaction that coming closer might garner.

Minho felt something crack inside of him. He had never been able to deny Kibum any comfort before all this had happened, and he could not do so now.

Silently, he held out his arms.

Kibum stood frozen a moment more as if to make certain that Minho truly meant the gesture of welcome. Then he ran forward into the shallow water and flung his arms about Minho’s neck. Minho enfolded Kibum tightly in his arms and spun him around in a circle, water splashing everywhere before he brought them to a halt. He then stroked Kibum’s back as Kibum clung to him and cried, his face buried in the crook of Minho’s neck.

“I knew it,” said Kibum in a tearful jumble of words. “I  _knew_  it! Everyone back home thinks you’re dead, but I  _knew_  you were alive, I just  _did_ , and I was  _right_ -”

“Shh,” Minho said softly. He petted Kibum’s hair, marveling at how much he’d missed the sensation of Kibum’s silky locks sliding between his fingers. “Why were you hunting so far from the city?”

Kibum took a deep shuddering breath in an attempt to still his tears and regain some measure of dignity.

“I was looking for you, of course,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you ever since I heard about the attack.” He drew back a little, eyes wide and anxious. “I’m so sorry about your father and the rest of the procession,” he said softly. “I don’t know if you knew-” 

“I know,” said Minho. He caught Kibum’s face between the palms of his hands and rested their foreheads together. “They were killed.”

Kibum nodded, a tight little jerk of his head. Minho rubbed the pads of his thumbs against Kibum’s cheekbones and tried to calm the sudden flurry of feelings within him. It was difficult to think of what to say; he had a year’s worth of imagined conversation between them lingering in his mind, none of which he’d thought he would ever have a chance to use.

“Why were you looking for me?” he said finally. “I didn’t expect you to.” 

Kibum bit his lip. “I know,” he said. “You probably think- I don’t know what you think. But you can’t possibly be happy with me.” His jaw tightened. “It doesn’t matter. I knew you were alive, and I couldn’t leave you be the captive of some shapeshifter. I just  _couldn’t_.”

Minho let his hands trail down the sides of Kibum’s body, feeling the contours of new muscles as well as the shapes of hidden daggers sequestered about his person. It occurred to him that Kibum must have trained long and hard to reach the level of proficiency he’d shown earlier while hunting them through the forest. That kind of dedication did not come from a casual attachment to a man you’d been forcibly betrothed to.

And, true, it neither explained nor solved the rest of what was wrong between them, but that could wait until they were no longer lingering in the danger of Rothbart’s garden. At the moment, Minho only wanted to know the answer to one question. 

“Kibum, do you love me still?”

Kibum laughed. It was a broken and jagged laugh that held no amusement within it and hurt very much to listen to.

“Of course I love you! I’ve always loved you, even if I was an  _idiot_  about it. You have no idea how sorry I am about what I did.” He swallowed, going very tense in Minho’s arms. “I mean, I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything, much less love me back, but you did _ask_ , and I-”

Minho seized Kibum’s face and dragged him into a rough and fierce kiss. Kibum made a high-pitched, surprised little sound, then melted into the kiss and clung to Minho as if his life depended upon it. Minho fisted his hands in Kibum’s hair and kissed him so long and hard that they were both panting and breathless by the time they broke apart.

“I still love you, too,” Minho said. He kissed first one of Kibum’s lovely cheekbones, then the other. “I missed you so much.” 

Kibum’s fingers tightened yet further in Minho’s tunic. “Really?” he said, voice small. “I thought-”

Minho pressed another kiss to the bridge of his nose. “Shh,” he said. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still upset about what you did, but how could I doubt your love now?” He nuzzled his nose into Kibum’s cheek. “You came for me,” he finished softly. “Look at you, all brave and strong and skilled like a hero from a tale. I missed you, and I love you, and you  _came to rescue me._ ” 

Kibum laughed. The sound was slightly less broken than before. 

“If someone had told me two years ago that  _I’d_  be rescuing  _you_  from a shapeshifter, I’d have laughed myself silly,” he said. He stroked his own hands over Minho’s chest, absently adjusting the lapels of Minho’s ragged tunic as he did so. “It’s all right. I’ve found you, and you can come back with me now, and everyone will be  _so_  pleased.”

Minho’s heart hurt, even as he could not help smiling at the way Kibum had automatically fallen back into his old habit of perpetually needing to fix Minho’s clothing for him. He therefore drew Kibum into another deep kiss, then broke away with a shake of his head.

“No. As much as I’d love to, I can’t come with you.” 

Kibum’s brows drew into a frown. “What? Why not? Are you afraid of the shapeshifter? If they come anywhere  _near_  you, I’ll slice them into pieces and fillet them like a fish-” 

Minho couldn’t help but kiss Kibum yet again at how viciously protective he sounded. Then he placed a finger over Kibum’s lips and spoke.

“I’m under a curse,” Minho reminded him. “I can only take human form for a night at a time, and then only once I’m on that lake and the moonlight touches me. Otherwise, I remain a swan.”

Kibum grabbed Minho’s wrist and pulled his hand away. “Well, you can come back as a swan, then. I’m sure one of the court magicians can turn you back-”

“They can’t,” said Minho. “The curse was cast by a powerful enchanter, the same one who tried to take over my father’s kingdom all those years ago. It can only be broken by him, or-”

His tongue got caught on the last words, stumbling over the long-held certainty that Kibum would never break the curse, a belief ingrained into him through long months of utter despair. And yet, Kibum was  _here_  and loved him and just, impossibly,  _might_  be willing to do what Minho had once not believed he ever would.

“What? Or what?” Kibum demanded, impatient as ever. “Minho, tell me!”

Minho took a deep breath. He folded Kibum’s hands into his own and spoke very seriously.

“You can break the curse,” he said intently. “Kibum, if you swear an everlasting vow of love to me and seal it with a kiss, you can break it.”

“Then I swear!” Kibum’s fingers tightened around Minho’s, his face fierce. “I swear with all my heart-”

Minho shook his head. “You have to prove it to the world,” he said. “That’s the other part. And I don’t know how-”

“I might.” Kibum’s cheeks flushed with excitement. “My mother is hosting a ball tomorrow night, something about trying to foist me off on someone else since you’ve been gone so long. Come to the ball, and I’ll swear in front of hundreds of people from all around this part of the world that I love you. That ought to do it.”

It did rather sound as if it would work. Minho opened his mouth to agree, only to close it swiftly when he heard a familiar and unwelcome voice calling from the woods.

“Minho? Sweet prince, where are you this fine night? Still dawdling on my lake?" 

“ _Rothbart_ ,” Minho hissed. He immediately shoved Kibum toward the lake’s edge. “Go, you have to go! You can’t hope to fight him and win.”

Kibum’s hand had dipped towards his sword. “Are you sure? I’m a lot better at fighting now-”

“My father’s  _army_  couldn’t kill him!  _Go_ , Kibum!”

Kibum took another step towards the shore. He was still frowning. “The ball-”

“I’ll be there,” Minho promised. “I’ll find a way, I swear. Now you have to  _go_!”

Kibum reluctantly nodded. He took a small and glittering object from his pocket before departing, however, and tossed it across the water to Minho.

“Your mother’s chain,” Kibum explained. “They found it when they found the wreckage of your procession. I thought you might want it back, so I’ve been keeping it safe for you.”

Minho dropped the chain into a pocket of his own. “Thank you. Now  _go_!”

Kibum smiled, blew him a kiss and vanished into the woods.

He was gone none too soon. Only a moment later, Rothbart stepped out of the forest, cape billowing behind him in the night wind. His bright eyes gleamed at Minho as he stood upon the lake shore.

“Did I hear… _voices_?”

Minho shook his head. “I was talking to myself,” he lied quickly. “It’s very boring being alone here for months, you know.”

Rothbart smiled. “Is that so? You could always accept my offer, you know. Marry me, and you won’t have to be alone ever again.”

The memory of Kibum, warm in Minho’s arms and sweet against his lips, burned within him with renewed fire.

“Never,” Minho spat. “I’d  _die_  first.”

Rothbart laughed. “Your weakling prince’s visit has given you spirit, I see. Oh? Did you think I wouldn’t know?” His laughter turned ugly as he drew back his foot and kicked Kibum’s bow into the water from where it had been lying forgotten against the shore. “Rothbart knows everything, sweet prince. He even knows what you’ve  _forgotten_  in your love-blinded haste.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Minho snarled. It was apparent that Rothbart knew everything that had been spoken between him and Kibum; it was no use feigning ignorance any longer. “I will go to that ball tomorrow night, and you  _can’t stop me._ ”

“Oh,  _I_  wouldn’t dream of it,” said Rothbart, voice still rich with laughter. He pointed a violet-gloved finger up at the sky. “But the heavens might. You see, love, tomorrow  _there is no moon_.”

Minho looked up at the sky. A sense of horror began to dawn within him, for Rothbart was entirely correct: the moon was in its last stages of waning, and Minho would thus not be able to become human tomorrow night.

“So?” said Minho finally, still defiant even in the face of this realization. “He can make a vow to me while I’m in swan form, can’t he?”

“I would dearly love to see your beloved little prince vow his love to a swan without making a mockery of himself,” Rothbart said, amused. “All those lovely people at the ball will only think mad Prince Kibum has lost his wits at last and vowed his heart to a bird, thus rendering his vow both useless and unproven.”

Rothbart’s laughter rolled to a mere chuckle. He snapped his fingers, and the chain vanished from Minho’s pocket to reappear wound gently around the enchanter’s gloved wrist.

“Do you know what’s more fun than a vow unproven?” Rothbart asked conversationally. “A vow made falsely to the wrong person. Why, that just might  _kill_  the intended recipient from the curse’s backlash.”

Miho stared at him. He remembered Kibum’s words about a shapeshifter, and how Rothbart had attacked the procession as a giant, bat-like creature, and his mind came to a terrible conclusion.

“You wouldn’t  _dare_.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Rothbart clicked his fingers again, and ropes appeared around Minho’s arms, binding him tight. “I think I’ll lock you up, sweet prince, and attend the ball myself. I grow tired of dealing with your endless refusals. Maybe I want a southern kingdom instead, with a pretty little prince named Kibum in my bed. He’ll be  _much_  easier to persuade, I think, particularly if I don your form.”

“Kibum will know,” Minho said, furious. “Kibum will know it’s not me, and he’ll kill you where you stand.”

“You underestimate me, love,” said Rothbart. He was smiling that terrible smile again. “You underestimate me a great deal indeed.”

~~~

Rothbart, true to his word, tossed Minho into a sealed tower half-filled with water at the castle’s edge.  _I want you to die slowly_ , he’d explained with great cheer.  _I want you to die knowing the exact moment your weakling prince kisses another man and swears a vow of everlasting love to him_.

Minho clung to the tower’s edge until dawn came and drove away the moon. Then he paddled agitatedly about in swan form, trying desperately to figure out how he might escape in time to prevent Kibum from making and sealing the vow.

It was no use. The tower had no holes and no weak spots that he could find. He was effectively trapped here until his death tonight. Minho had never felt so helpless, not even in his last year of imprisonment. At least then he’d been too depressed to think of escape. Now escape was  _all_  that he could think of, and yet there was no way out.

Sometime past what felt to Minho’s internal clock like mid-afternoon, Rothbart flung open a barred window farther up the tower and tossed a screaming man in. Minho immediately launched himself off the water and flew straight up at the enchanter.

“I’m off, sweet prince,” Rothbart called cheerfully. “Enjoy your last few hours of life. I’m certain  _I_  will enjoy having pretty Prince Kibum to amuse myself with, if you know what I mean.”

He winked lecherously and closed the window before Minho could fly the rest of the way up the tower and attack him. Minho fell back to the water, furious at himself for not being faster. All his life he’d enjoyed training to be the best fighter he could be, and yet none of it was any use when it mattered most.

It was frustrating beyond belief.

“H-h-hey,” said the man Rothbart had tossed in, as he shivered and clung to a protruding brick in order to keep from having to tread water. “Who are you? What’s going on?”

Minho looked harder at him and was surprised to notice it was Jonghyun. Rothbart must have captured him after Kibum had left him behind yesterday to chase after Minho and Jinki.

Unfortunately, there was little Minho could do as a swan to reassure Jonghyun, especially since he could not even reassure himself.

“I’m serious,” said Jonghyun. His head was bleeding; Minho wondered if perhaps he was concussed and not aware that he was talking to a swan. “That guy just snatched me out of the woods and interrogated me about the  _ball arrangements_ , for heaven’s sake, and I can’t figure out why. Where’s the prince? What’s going on?”

Minho sighed and continued to swim in circles. There was nothing else he could do.

~~~

It was some hours later when Taemin shot up out of the water with unnatural force and ricocheted about the walls. Jonghyun shrieked loudly when the frog landed on his head and bounced back off into the water.

“We made a hole!” Taemin panted. He popped out of the water again to wave at Minho. “It’s not big enough for that human, but you can probably squeeze through.”

Minho frowned. Rothbart had several nasty water creatures floating about the moat, none of which Minho wanted to encounter in his current form as a swan.

“What about the crocodiles?” he asked, since those were the creatures that tended to lurk nearest this particular section of the castle.

Taemin blinked dismissively. “Jinki’s taking care of them. C’mon, let’s  _go_! You have to find your prince before Rothbart gets to him.”

Minho glanced at Jonghyun. Jonghyun stared back, his eyes wide and deeply confused. Minho wished he could help the royal advisor escape as well or at least inform him of what was currently happening, but as Jonghyun could not understand animal speech, there was really nothing he could do. Thus, Minho sighed and plunged into the water after Taemin, leaving Jonghyun to cling to the inside of the tower wall.

There was indeed a very small hole in the rows of bricks near the tower’s base, just barely large enough for a swan to squeeze through. Minho wriggled his way out, immensely grateful for Taemin’s help as the frog tugged and pulled him through. After he’d swum a little ways into the moat, he noticed Jinki zooming about underwater to distract the crocodiles and fought back with difficulty the instinct to help. He needed to reach the surface and  _fly_.

“Go, go, go!” Taemin yelled after him once he broke the surface and took off into the air. “We’re cheering for you!”

~~~

Minho flew faster than he had ever flown before, faster even than when Kibum had been hunting him through the woods. The forest seemed to acknowledge his need and shifted helpfully beneath him. It seemed that he reached the edge in barely any time at all.

He made straight for the castle. It was night by now, and he surely had little time left to stop Kibum from making the vow.

Once he reached the castle, however, he encountered another problem: he had no way in. The windows were all locked and barred shut, likely as part of the security for such an important event. Servants chased him away from the doors with axes and shouts. The gutters were closed off with bars as well.

Minho flew frantically around, pecking at windows in a desperate hope that  _someone_  would let him in

No one did.

Eventually, he settled on a bit of roof where he could peer inside at the enormous ballroom. To his horror, he saw Rothbart there, dancing with Kibum and holding him close. Rothbart had donned Minho’s form to perfection, down to every last mole and hair.

He must have been an excellent actor as well, for Kibum was smiling in his arms, smiling with stars in his eyes, as if he were truly dancing with Minho and not the cruelest of enchanters.

Rothbart glanced up suddenly at the window behind which Minho was perched. The enchanter’s eyes narrowed; then he smiled and placed a gentle hand on Kibum’s cheek, bringing their waltz to a halt.

Minho watched helplessly as Rothbart whispered in Kibum’s ear. The pair made their way over to the band and bade them halt the music. Kibum then turned and cleared his throat. The crowd fell quiet in a ripple of spreading silence, all the people turning to gaze at Kibum and Rothbart.

Then Kibum began to speak.

Minho could not hear what he said. He could only see how fervently Kibum believed his words, how warmly Rothbart smiled as he clutched Kibum’s elbow, how intently the crowd listened to the speech. Minho had no choice but to remain on his rooftop and gasped for breath as icy tendrils of magic slid through him, spiking him with the knowledge that should Kibum seal his vow with a kiss, Minho was done for.

He could  _not_  let that happen. More than his own life was at stake here, should Rothbart trick his way into marriage with the heir of so powerful a kingdom.

Minho extended his wings and flew upward. Up and up and up he went, for he needed the velocity a long fall would give him if he was to break through the barred window. And then, at the apex of his flight, he  _dived_.

The magic must have been with him as he dove, for he smashed through the window and bars in a clattering of shattering glass and sprung metal. But immediately as he fell into the ballroom, he knew it had been too late.

Kibum’s lips had met Rothbart’s.

Minho hung in the air silently for a moment, bruised and bleeding from his crash through the windows. Kibum’s wide eyes met his- everyone’s eyes were on him, startled, afraid- but Minho could only look at Kibum.

Then the magic sank its talons into him with a painful, searing jolt, and he forgot all else but the need to  _stop hurting_.

He fled back out the window, mind numb and lost in a haze of agony. He could feel the magic spreading through him like a virus on its path to killing him. It hurt as nothing had ever hurt before, not the bones he had broken from a fall when he was twelve, not the pain of Kibum’s betrayal, not even the deaths of his father and the procession. This was a physical agony, slicing through his bones and sapping all his strength.

Minho flew without thinking back towards Rothbart’s castle and the lake. He did not know what he could hope to accomplish there, but the lake felt like a place of salvation, being as it was the only place where he could ever transform from swan to human. The lake likely could not save him now- probably nothing could- but one last sliver of desperate hope drove him on nonetheless.

That, and he felt he ought to see Jinki and Taemin one last time before he died to let them know that the plan had failed utterly.

Strangely, he could sense Rothbart’s presence lingering around him as he flew, an ominous, darkly amused invisible stare. Minho paid it no mind. It was all he could do to focus on flying. Breathing was difficult, concentrating on not falling out of the sky more so. The forest seemed to reach out and aid him in his flight, perhaps sensing that his desire to return to the lake was the request of a dying man.

He was dizzy and barely conscious by the time he winged over the lake’s still waters. He saw, dimly, Jinki and Taemin swimming anxiously towards him before he fell head over wing onto the shore and lay there, unable to so much as twitch a feather.

The curse dissolved around him the moment he collapsed, contorting and stretching him back into human form, a sure sign of his imminent demise. Minho closed his eyes as he struggled for breath and found himself painfully glad that he had least managed to hold Kibum in his arms one last time before he died.

The last sound he heard before he lost consciousness was the impossible echo of Kibum's voice calling his name, layered with the undertones of Rothbart's mocking laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**KIBUM**

It was difficult to follow Minho’s instructions to leave him alone with the enchanter once more, but Kibum did so anyway. Minho had been there over a year, after all, and Kibum was not about to second-guess his understanding of the situation, which was likely better than Kibum’s own.

As he picked his way through the thick brush, Kibum found himself grateful that he had so carefully memorized the route he had taken to travel to the castle, for it was very difficult to find his way back through the forest in the dark. He counted himself doubly fortunate that he did not encounter any wild creatures intent on feasting on him while on his path back to the cabin where they’d left the horses.

One horse was gone already, of course; Jonghyun must have taken it earlier for his own return trip. Kibum untethered the remaining horse and swung astride. He urged the animal through the forest brush and then onto the main roads, shivering a little in the chill night air as he rode through the empty city streets.

He finally arrived back at the castle in the very early hours of morning, flushed with excitement and the memory of Minho’s kisses.

“Kibum!” his mother exclaimed, upon finding him waltzing happily into the castle covered in mud, sweat and grass stains. “Where _have_ you been?”

“Didn’t Jonghyun tell you?” Kibum asked, with much surprise. He had expected his friend to inform the queen of their hunting session upon his return to the castle hours earlier.

The queen’s frown deepened. “I haven’t seen him. What _are_ you doing, child? The ball is tomorrow, and you need your rest.”

Kibum rolled his eyes. “I’ll be _fine_.” He caught his mother by the shoulders and kissed each of her cheeks in turn. “I met someone.”

She eyed him warily. “I take it by that you mean a person you intend to court. Is this _someone_ an appropriate suitor for the heir to my throne?”

“Absolutely,” said Kibum, as mysteriously as he could manage. He danced away, smiling. “You’ll see, Mother. You’ll love him, I promise.”

She sighed, but there was hope in her sigh. Even though Kibum knew it to be only hope that he had finally gotten over his love for Minho, he could not stop a peal of eager laughter from escaping his lips.

It was time to go draft his vow of everlasting love. Only the most eloquent of speeches would be worthy of the task ahead of him. Minho deserved no less.

~~~

Jonghyun did not make an appearance either that night or the next day. Kibum didn’t worry about it. Jonghyun was probably just busy somewhere with all the ball preparations or perhaps had overslept. The man was as skilled as Kibum in navigating the forest; there was no way anything could have happened to him.

That evening, Kibum dressed for the ball in his finest clothing, in colors Minho had always liked to see on him. He paused for a moment before attaching his ceremonial sword to his belt, then decided to bring a real weapon instead. Minho would be escaping from an enchanter to arrive here, after all. Trouble seemed likely, and there was no point in taking chances.

The queen stuck close to her son for the first half hour, clearly eager to find the ‘someone’ Kibum had spoken of last night. It was only after she had reluctantly departed to welcome a particularly important princess from the east, however, that Kibum felt a slight touch of fingertips at his shoulder.

He turned. A tall man in a finely-embroidered cloak stood behind him, the cloak’s hood pulled up to hide his face. This garnered him some curious stares, but not many. Most likely everyone assumed him to be one of the more pompously mysterious of the court magicians.

The man smiled and lifted the hood from his head once he had Kibum’s attention, and it became immediately apparent that he was no magician at all.

“ _Minho_ ,” Kibum breathed. A warm joy spread throughout his chest, and it was all he could do to keep from flinging himself into Minho’s arms in a very inappropriate manner.

“Kibum,” said Minho. He offered a slight, shy bow. “I’m sorry I’m late. It took a bit of doing to escape from the enchanter. I had to steal some of his clothes because mine were so-”

“It’s all right,” Kibum said immediately, interrupting this apology. He took Minho’s hands in his own, smiling when he noticed Minho wearing his mother’s chain about his neck. “I’ve missed you.”

Minho laughed quietly. “It’s been less than a day since we last saw each other.”

“Still.” Kibum pulled him towards the dance floor. “Come, let’s go indulge in a socially appropriate excuse to cling to each other for a while.”

Minho laughed again and followed.

~~~

Each person Kibum met was duly astonished at the appearance of Minho. The queen could barely form coherent words, so shocked was she that Minho was not as dead as she and everyone else had assumed him to be.

Kibum himself felt only impatience at the slow passage of time and the necessity of dealing with everyone’s reactions to Minho’s presence. He longed for the ball to be over so that he could take Minho back to his rooms and really _show_ him how much he loved, appreciated and had _missed_ him. From the way Minho looked at him, darkly intent and with a knowing smile, the other prince felt exactly the same way. 

Finally, Kibum’s jittery impatience became apparently too much for even Minho to bear. They were thus in the midst of a waltz about the floor in another blatant excuse to touch each other, when Minho cupped Kibum’s cheek in his hand and brought them to a halt.

Minho leaned forward to whisper in Kibum’s ear. Kibum shivered as the warmth of Minho’s breath tickled his ear in the most inviting of ways.

“How about you make the vow now?” Minho said softly. “It’ll give you an excuse to kiss me in public, at least.”

Kibum flushed and nodded. “Good idea,” he whispered back, for indeed it was.

They went immediately over to the band. Kibum asked the musicians to halt and to call for everyone’s attention with the loud flare of a trumpet’s horn. That done, he turned, and with Minho’s hand warm around his elbow, began the speech he’d prepared so carefully.

He first introduced Minho to the crowd by name. Then he spoke of their childhood together and of their teenage years. He spoke of how they had come to love one another and of how true and painfully deep that love ran. He spoke with simile and metaphor, using phrases he’d borrowed from the most poetic of love ballads, for only the most eloquent of speeches was worthy of the vow he intended to make.

Once the main part of his speech had faded, he turned slightly to be able to look at Minho and smile at him. Minho smiled back, eyes shining, and gestured for Kibum to arrive at his conclusion.

“I love you,” Kibum said, loudly and clearly. “And so I hereby make a vow of everlasting love to you tonight, in the presence of every single person here. The day I stop loving you will be the day the sun ceases to rise, and the moon ceases to reflect its light upon us. This I vow, and thus I _prove_ my vow.”

He took Minho’s face in his hands and gently, sweetly, leaned forward and pressed the most heartfelt of kisses to his beloved’s lips.

The instant their lips touched, however, a loud crash resounded throughout the ballroom, followed by several shrill screams. Kibum jerked away from Minho and found a bruised and battered swan hanging in the air by a broken window, staring straight at him.

A _swan_. And beyond the swan, a dark and _moonless_ sky.

Before Kibum could so much as utter a word, the swan turned and flew back out the window. Its pale feathers glimmered in the starlight as it flew away, its path through the night sky dipping and weaving as if it were injured and struggling to stay aloft.

And Minho had been held captive by a _shapeshifter_.

Kibum cursed himself for his stupidity even as he stepped backwards and drew his sword with a loud scrape of metal. Before he could do more than that, however, the enchanter in Minho’s guise flung his head back, laughed and _vanished_.

“Do you know what you have done, little prince?” a ghostly voice whispered, its words echoing deeply about the ballroom. “You have sworn, proved and sealed your vow to the wrong person. Magic doesn’t like liars, Kibum. Your sweet swan will _die_ for this.”

“No,” Kibum breathed, horror sinking into his bones with a fiery chill. “No, no, _no_!”

“Oh, yes, yes, _yes_!” the voice mocked back. “I’d run to him now, if I were you. Maybe you can whisper sweet nothings in his ear before he leaves this world forever.”

Kibum didn’t bother with more argument or with explaining these proceedings to his mother and the rest of the crowd. He turned and fled, rudely shoving his way through the crowd in his desperation to get to Minho as soon as possible.

He did not waste time with saddling a horse but swung himself astride bareback and urged his steed out of the stables and down the path to the forest. The flying hooves of his horse swallowed up the road as Kibum urged the beast down the muddy path as quickly as it could go.

The enchanter’s voice rung around him with deep, booming laughter as he rode. Kibum knew it for the intended distraction that it was and therefore ignored it. He instead focused on guiding his horse into the forest and down the winding way that would take him to the castle he’d followed Minho to before.

It was not long, however, before his horse reared, shied away from the trail and refused to go an inch further. Kibum swung down from the horse’s back and ran through the woods on foot instead. The forest seemed to aid him, shifting in front of his eyes as he hacked his way through underbrush, nearly breaking his sword several times in the process. He sprinted as quickly as he could towards where he knew the castle and lake must be, repeatedly calling Minho’s name as he went.

_Keep running, weakling prince! Your sweet one is fading fast. Mayhap he’ll be dead by the time you reach his side_. _Wouldn’t that be lovely?_

Kibum blocked out the echo of Rothbart’s voice and lost track of time; it seemed an eternity before he was finally at the lake’s shore. He paused for a moment by the tree line, eyes scanning the landscape in front of him for any sign of Minho.

Then the glint of a duck’s wings caught his attention. He followed the movement to the fallen form of Minho lying some yards away from the lakeshore, human again and motionless.

“ _No_ ,” Kibum said, as if words could fix anything, and this time there was no laughter to mock him.

He ran to Minho’s side and knelt to gather him up in his arms. Minho stirred feebly but did not wake. His breathing was fast and shallow, his pulse weak.

“I swore that vow for you,” Kibum whispered. He tightened his hold on his dying prince. “Do you hear me? I swore that vow for _you_.” Rage swelled within his chest; he turned his head to scream into the listening woods. “ _Do you hear me? I SWORE THAT VOW FOR HIM!”_

Rothbart strolled out of the trees, wincing.

“No need to shout,” he said, rubbing at his ears. “I hear you perfectly well.”

“Then _fix him_!” Kibum shouted. He laid Minho carefully back down onto the ground and strode furiously up towards Rothbart. “You’re an enchanter! _Heal him!_ ”

“And why would I do that?” Rothbart asked. He raised a casual eyebrow. “He’s proved himself to be useless to me. Come now, I need an incentive for such a request. Perhaps _you_ might marry me and allow me to rule your kingdom alongside you? I might be tempted to heal him then…”

Kibum drew his sword, furious. He was not about to fall for the enchanter’s mind games and twisted words, not after how badly Rothbart had tricked him earlier this night. The very _memory_ of Rothbart's lips against his own incited a wrathful, queasy sensation low in his stomach.

“Liar,” he thus spat in response to the enchanter’s proposal. “You’d just let him die anyway the moment I agreed.”

“Ah, you’re perceptive,” Rothbert said with a sigh. “I hate that in a man.”

“Let me make it clearer for you,” said Kibum, voice as sharp as shattered glass.  “Heal him now, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“Oh, is that a _threat_?”

Kibum did not bother replying to this with words, but rather settled into a combat-ready stance and raised his sword into a guard position.

“Ah, it _is_ a threat.” Rothbart smiled a smile with wicked edges. “Shall we make it a _deal_ instead? Kill me and indeed your prince _might_ live.”

“Not _might_ ,” said Kibum, unrelenting. “ _Will_. He _will_ live-”

“Sorry, love,” said Rothbart with a shrug. “ _Maybe_ ’s the best I can do.” 

Then he vanished.

Kibum had practiced fighting the court magicians before, but that was no preparation for a duel against an enchanter of Rothbart’s caliber. No magician could just _disappear_ so completely as apparently Rothbart could. Kibum stood frozen, barely daring to breathe for fear the sound of his own lungs at work would obscure any audible sign of Rothbart’s reappearance. 

His only warning that Rothbart had returned was an enormous rush of air behind him. Kibum leapt and rolled out of the way just as giant bat claws raked the ground where he had been standing.

_The great animal_ , Kibum thought, rolling deftly to his feet again, sword at the ready. _He’s fast. No wonder he managed to take out the entire procession-_

Then he had no more time for thinking, only concentration on the fight.

Kibum’s training had prepared him very well for most things. It had not prepared him for this. He struggled to hold his own against Rothbart and found himself flung against trees and bleeding in a dozen places in the space of only a minute. It was testament to just how skilled at combat Kibum had become that he was still alive at all sixty seconds later, when that had been all the time Rothbart had needed to take out Minho, thirty guards and an entire retinue of servants and staff a year earlier.

All the same, he was not fast enough to dodge when Rothbart reappeared silently behind him and seized him with giant claws. Kibum screamed when the enchanter beat his wings and rose into the air, spiraling ever higher. The ground shrank beneath them with dizzying quickness, and Kibum could not stop screaming. The sight of solid earth so far away made his stomach clench and his head spin. He had never liked heights, but even standing atop the turrets of his castle’s tallest tower did not compare to dangling helplessly dozens of feet off the ground, his enemy’s painfully tight grip around his torso the only thing between him and falling to his death. 

And of course, Rothbart had no interest in keeping him safe. Kibum’s screams rose in volume and tore at his throat when Rothbart carelessly dropped him, sending him plummeting into the tree tops below.

He fortunately landed on a network of branches that slowed his fall considerably. Kibum concentrated on keeping a tight grip on his sword with one hand and on flailing desperately with the other to find something- anything- to keep him from tumbling the rest of the way out of the tree and onto the hard, unforgiving ground below. Every inch of his body hurt from the force of smashing through the branches, and something had cracked painfully in the wrist of his sword-hand.

Rothbart slammed himself into the tree trunk, shaking the entire tree considerably. Kibum shrieked again and fell the final eight feet to the ground. He cried out as whatever had cracked in his wrist crunched further with a hot stab of agonizing pain. There was, however, no time to dwell on his likely broken wrist. He quickly transferred his sword to his other hand and scrambled to his feet, just in time to fend off a snap of Rothbart’s knife-sharp teeth.

Kibum had managed to score a few hits against Rothbart before his fall, but none were very deep and certainly none were life-threatening. His situation was now even worse, given that he had to fight with his non-dominant hand. Although he had practiced this a good amount, he was still nowhere near as skilled with his left hand as he was with his right. He was furthermore badly injured now and struggled to keep pace with the ferocity of Rothbart’s attacks.

Just when he’d thought things could not _possibly_ get worse, Rothbart caught the sword in his mouth and snapped it half, thus depriving Kibum of his only weapon.

Kibum rolled out of the way of another strike, panting for breath and eyes frantically scouring the ground. He needed _something_ besides his bare hands- well, _hand_ \- to take on Rothbart. There were twigs and tree branches- but that wouldn’t do it, not if the sword hadn’t. They would only snap as well and leave him defenseless once more, while lacking even a cutting edge to strike at Rothbart with.

A glimmer of duck wings caught Kibum’s attention again. To his astonishment he spotted the duck hauling his lost bow along the shoreline, followed by a small, green frog dragging a single, very wet arrow.

A soaking wet bow and bedraggled arrow would not function properly and were certainly not the weapons Kibum would have chosen in a fight like this. He had, however, no choice at the moment. It was that bow and arrow or nothing.

He ran full-out towards the shoreline, screeching in pain when Rothbart’s claws scored down his back and drew blood. Kibum ignored the agonizing sting and launched himself forward into a neat tucked roll, then came up on one knee with his bow strung and drawn. It hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before to draw the bow with his broken wrist; tears streamed down his face, and his muscles shook with the effort.

Rothbart was only five feet away when Kibum loosed the arrow. He had no time to aim the thing properly or account for its half-destroyed state. He could only approximate and rely on the instincts he’d developed due to his training.

The arrow struck its mark. It entered Rothbart’s eye- an extremely difficult target, but Kibum wasn’t sure a strike to the heart would work, given how thick the bat’s fur was- and shredded through it into the enchanter’s brain.

Rothbart screamed, fell and exploded into a cloud of noxious purple and green smoke. The poisonous mist soon diffused into the darkness of the woods, then dissipated entirely into the night, leaving no trace of itself behind but a shriveled husk of a body.

Kibum stayed still long enough to ensure that Rothbart was truly and finally dead. Then he dropped the bow and ran immediately to Minho’s side.

It was too late. Minho was not breathing, and he had no pulse. Kibum gathered the body up into his arms, heedless of the still-throbbing agony in his wrist. He remembered Rothbart’s _maybe_ and wept.

“I’m sorry,” he said through his tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

It was all he could feel at first, a thick, drowning guilt for how badly he had failed his prince. He had, after all, undoubtedly made Minho’s last year of life horrifically painful by making the decision to betray him. Then he had left Minho alone with the enchanter once they’d found each other again, rather than insisting on staying and facing Rothbart then. And, finally, he’d fallen for Rothbart’s trickery this night and afterwards had lacked the speed, strength and skill to destroy the enchanter before Minho’s last breath had expired.

Kibum eventually forced these apologies silent, for they were useless without Minho alive to hear them. He instead gave another strangled sob and held Minho’s lifeless shell closer. He did not care how silly he looked, weeping hysterically over a corpse. There was only a duck and a frog to see him, after all.

He tried, desperately, to think of something to say, some eulogy worthy to honor Minho’s memory. He could think of nothing, however, except the endless string of reasons for why he had loved Minho so. Given that these reasons were numerous, they crowded up in his mind in an incoherent mess of tangled words, none of which was in any way sufficient to convey the depth of feeling within him.

“I love how you eat jam,” he managed finally, voice broken and cracked despite the ridiculousness of this confession. “Hey, remember when you used to drag me out of bed at three in the morning to go star-gazing? I complained so much, but…” His voice cracked again. “I actually really enjoyed it, y’know?”

His tears came faster, distorting his voice even more. He was barely aware of what he was saying, so confused and jumbled were the sentences tumbling from his mouth, until finally he couldn’t get any words at all out anymore. They clogged up his throat, far too many things to say and no time left to say them.

“I love you,” he concluded, voice raw and exhausted. “I love everything about you. I will _always_ love everything about you, even- even now.”

Coherency left him. Kibum gave up on the speaking. He bent his head and pressed his mouth, wet with salty tears as it was, to Minho’s unresponsive lips.

There was a moment of utter stillness, when even the trees held the rustling of their leaves frozen. The very stars seemed as if they had ceased to twinkle while the night itself held its breath.

Then Minho began to glow with an unnatural, wet light. 

Kibum scrambled backwards, eyes wide with astonished fear. He glanced over towards where Rothbart had fallen, but the enchanter remained assuredly dead. What, then, could possibly be happening?

A voice abruptly intruded into his confusion.

“…Kibum?”

Shocked, Kibum looked back at the light, only to find it gone. Instead, Minho knelt there, blinking. His cheeks were pale and his countenance confused, but he was nevertheless undoubtedly _alive_.

_Maybe_ echoed through Kibum’s mind again. He replayed what he had said just now, spontaneously, caught in grief. Had he accidentally made the vow and sealed it? But there was no one around; how had he proved it to the world?

It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered now that Minho was no longer _dead_.

Kibum launched himself into Minho’s arms and held him tight. Minho clung back with equal force, and neither could speak for the strength of their relieved tears or the desperation of their kisses.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**MINHO**

After they had exhausted themselves with their reunion, Kibum explained what had happened since Minho had fled the castle. Minho then took it upon himself to introduce Kibum to Jinki and Taemin. The introductions were complicated by the fact that although Minho still retained the ability to understand the duck and frog, Kibum could not, and thus the conversation had to go through various rounds of translations.

After the introductions were over, Kibum expressed his gratitude for the timely appearance of the bow and arrow.

“You’re welcome,” said Jinki immediately. “We couldn’t have done it without _him_ , though,” the duck added, gesturing with one wing across the lake.

Minho turned to look where Jinki was pointing, Kibum following suit. To his surprise, he saw none other than Jonghyun there. The royal advisor was sprawled exhaustedly on a small isle in the middle of the lake and was waving back with tired enthusiasm.

“That guy crawled out of the tower not long after you left,” Taemin explained. “He found the bow and arrow at the bottom of the lake, so we swam them over here to help you.”

“The bow must’ve fallen there when Rothbart kicked it in after you left it,” Minho realized aloud to Kibum. “And when you missed me with your arrow, that must’ve fallen in as well.”

“I don’t care how the bow and arrow got there,” said Kibum. He wrapped his arms around Minho’s torso from behind and pressed their cheeks together. “I’m just glad they did.”

Minho smiled and leaned his head back onto Kibum’s shoulder. “ _I’m_ glad you accidentally made a vow of everlasting love to me and sealed it with a kiss.”

Kibum rolled his eyes; Minho’s smile widened further at the sight. He turned his head sideways and nuzzled his nose against Kibum’s sweaty jawline.

 “I’m _also_ glad the curse thought that proving my vow to the world meant proving it to Jonghyun and two talking animals,” Kibum said, breath hitching when Minho pressed a soft kiss to his chin. “Who’d have known?” 

“ _I’m_ glad we’re all still alive,” Jonghyun called from across the lake. “Now can we focus on getting out of here? I’m fucking _freezing_.”

~~~

There ensued a brief debate over whether they should attempt a midnight trek back through the forest or spend the night in the castle. Jinki expressed some concern about what enchantments Rothbart might have left within the castle that might possibly harm them. Taemin was of the opinion that they could avoid any such enchantments altogether by merely being careful. Jonghyun suggested that they ought to steal sets of dry clothing before embarking into the forest. Minho agreed with this suggestion, as he did not wish to spend a moment longer in his former place of imprisonment, but did wish to change out of the same garments he’d been wearing for over a year.

It was Kibum who in the end decided that they should risk staying the night in the castle, as none of the humans were fit to travel in the nighttime cold. Jonghyun was dripping wet, Kibum was injured from his fight with Rothbart, and Minho was shaking badly from the curse’s backlash still. In any case, the forest was bound to be every bit as dangerous at night as Rothbart’s castle was, and if they were going to sneak in to find fresh clothing, they might as well stay ‘til morning.

All of them conceded to this logic and trooped very carefully into the castle. Apart from a few minor curses here and there- which they avoided thanks to Jinki’s sharp eye and Taemin’s ability to accidentally trigger traps and then deftly escape them- they encountered nothing truly dangerous. In barely any time at all, the humans had raided Rothbart’s wardrobe for clean, dry clothing and immediately felt much better.

Minho and Jonghyun then worked together to bandage the worst of Kibum’s wounds and splint his broken wrist. In truth, Jonghyun did most of the work, as Minho’s hands were still shaking too badly to be of much help, given that he was still weak from his near-death experience. Minho instead put himself to use by stroking Kibum’s hair and pressing kisses to his cheek to soothe him when the shreds of bandaging cloth scraped against his wounds and made him gasp with pain.

That done, their next stop was to locate Rothbart’s kitchens and relieve their hunger with food and water that was _hopefully_ not enchanted. Jinki flew up to sit on the table, and Jonghyun prepared for Taemin a bowl of water to moisten his amphibian skin in. Minho, meanwhile, helped Kibum drag forth the enormous chair at the head of the table. (Rothbart’s ego had apparently extended even to his oversize furniture.) After some moments of shuffling about, Minho had settled himself between Kibum’s legs as they squeezed together in the large, wooden chair.

“I better not die from doing this,” Taemin complained as he splashed about. “Princes shouldn’t die while bathing. It’s embarrassing.”

“I suspect it’s just purified lake water,” Jinki said from his perch at the edge of the table. “You’ll be fine. Besides, if it _is_ poisoned, you’ve probably soaked it all up and have already begun the process of dying horribly.”

Taemin let out a very loud, horrified croak at these words and began flailing about in the bowl. Minho snorted with amusement, then started coughing as his aching lungs rebelled against the sudden stress. He relaxed, however, once Kibum made soothing noises and petted his arm.

“What’s going on?” Jonghyun demanded, pausing in his attempt to devour an entire wheel of fine cheese. “Why is the frog squeaking like that? Why are you laughing?”

“It’s nothing,” Minho rasped. “Taemin’s just going on about being a prince again.”

“I _am_ a prince,” Taemin said indignantly. “Once I find a beautiful princess with flowing locks of hair-”

“A frog prince, huh?” said Kibum, interrupting this familiar rant, much to Minho’s relief. “Aren’t there tales about such things?”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun said in realization. “Someone snogs the frog, and it becomes human.”

“Not _someone_ ,” said Taemin. He tumbled out of the bowl, aggrieved. “A beautiful princess with-”

Jinki smacked him gently with a wing. “We _know_.”

“C’mere,” said Jonghyun, oblivious to the finer details of the conversation. He reached down and scooped Taemin up in his hands. “Let me try.”

“Um,” said Minho. “I think someone of royal blood has to do the kissing-”

It was too late; Jonghyun’s lips had met the top of Taemin’s green head. Minho sighed, expecting nothing to happen. He then choked on his sigh when Taemin croaked loudly with alarm and began to _grow._

Kibum reached out and flicked Taemin out of Jonghyun’s hands before he could transform and land on the unfortunate advisor. In no time at all, there sat a damp, very naked youth where a small, green frog had once been.

Taemin- who was actually very pretty in human form- frowned with disappointment.

“You don’t have _nearly_ enough hair,” he said, as he directed an accusing stare at Jonghyun. “And you’re not even a _prince_.”

“What?” said Jonghyun. A gleeful grin stretched widely across his lips. “Who cares? Look, my kisses are magic!”

Kibum snorted into Minho’s hair and muttered disparagements into the back of Minho’s head. Minho himself smiled and stroked Kibum’s knee, amused at his love’s disdain for Jonghyun’s delight.

“Hey, let me try it again,” said Jonghyun, his curiosity unabated.

He reached out once more and caught Jinki up in his hands. The duck squawked and vigorously flapped his wings.

“Um,” said Jinki. “See, unlike Taemin, I am _actually a duck_ \- augh!”

Jonghyun kissed the top of his feathery head. The same process followed: Jinki expanded, contorted, then gradually became human as well. It reminded Minho rather horribly of his own forced transformations from swan to human form and back again. Perhaps Kibum understood the reason for his sudden shudder, for he pressed comforting kisses to the nape of Minho’s neck as Jinki’s shape changed.

Taemin beamed and flung his arms around Jinki after the transformation was complete, heedless of their mutual nakedness.

“We can be human together!” he exclaimed with great joy.

“My feathers!” cried Jinki, not nearly so joyful.

“Hey, do you think this means I’m a long-lost prince?” demanded Jonghyun.

Minho descended into laughter, which turned immediately into a series of hacking coughs. Kibum pounded him carefully on the back and glared at the other three. He then proceeded to roundly scold them while Minho basked in the protective affection of his prince.

~~~

Shortly thereafter, Jonghyun accompanied Jinki and Taemin back to Rothbart’s quarters in order to find clothing for them and instruct them in how to put it on. Once the other three had gone, Minho forced himself to leave the warmth of Kibum’s arms and take a seat at one of the other chairs at the table. There were things they had to talk about now that they were alone, things Minho had been waiting thirteen long months to know the answers to.

Thus, he began by asking Kibum what exactly had passed between him and that noble in a back corner of the castle over a year ago. Had it been a one-time thing? Had Kibum been seeing the other man for a while? Had it only been that one other noble, or had there been more?

Kibum winced and did not look pleased at the questions, but he responded to them without hesitation. Minho sat still and quietly listened to Kibum’s explanations of how the prospect of marriage had terrified him and panicked him into doing something very foolish that he now much regretted.

Kibum spoke for several minutes, after which he fell into an anxious, edgy silence. Minho took a slow breath, unsure what to make of Kibum’s words, and contemplated his response.

“You never told me any of this,” he said finally, for that was the most important point.

Kibum gave a tight little shrug. “I didn’t want to tell you; I didn’t think you’d understand. You were all about the _we love each other so therefore let’s marry_ , and I didn’t want you to think I didn’t love you because I didn’t want to marry you.”

“I _don’t_ understand,” Minho said honestly. “Not really. But, Kibum, it hurt me a lot more to see you with someone else than it ever would have for you to _talk to me_ about this.”

Kibum winced again. “I know that now,” he said, subdued. He looked up, and his eyes were very serious. “You have no idea how sorry I am about what I did. I’ll never do it again, I swear, but I understand if it’s something you can’t forgive me for.”

“I’ll forgive you,” said Minho. He chose his words very carefully. “ _Eventually_. As long as you promise to come to me and let me know when you have a problem with something I’m doing. We might fight about it and hurt each other a little, but that’s much better than hurting each other a _lot_ over a preventable misunderstanding.”

Kibum nodded his assent without saying anything, as if his throat had tightened too much for words. Minho waited silently for him to gather his thoughts, more than a little anxious himself.

Then, when finally Kibum spoke, his voice was very small and nervous.

“So, um, about the wedding-”

“We can call it off,” Minho said immediately. It hurt to say the words, but he did so anyway. “We’ll have to marry eventually, of course, due to the political concerns, but we can talk everyone into waiting awhile. I would never force you into doing something you’re frightened of.”

Kibum stared at him. His eyes were suddenly very wide. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” said Minho. He took a breath and leaned forward to place a hand over Kibum’s on the wide, wooden armrest of the large chair. “And before you start panicking about whatever again, I _do_ know that you love me. I mean, you pretty much brought me back from the _dead_ with the strength of your love.” He smiled, honestly amused. “ _And_ you trained yourself to be a better warrior even than I am, just to save me. I would be a fool to doubt your love now.”

“I almost got you killed in the first place, though,” Kibum protested. “I made the vow to the wrong-”

“You did that because Rothbart was an excellent actor and a sneaky son of a bitch,” said Minho, descending into vulgar commoner’s language to emphasize his point. “You thought you were making that vow to me, and you’ll have to make it again at some point, by the way, because I couldn’t hear you through the window the first time, and I really do want to know what you said.”

Kibum’s ears turned red. “No, you don’t,” he said hastily. “It was a very embarrassing vow, in retrospect. It had attempts at poetry. Never mind that, though, because if you’re sure that you-”

“Kibum,” said Minho firmly. He rubbed his thumb over Kibum’s scraped knuckles. “I love you, you love me, and we’ll sort out any remaining problems between us when I’m not exhausted from being cursed, and you’re not half-dead from sprinting through a forest and slaying an evil enchanter for me.”

Kibum dropped his gaze. His voice became hesitant again. “So, about the whole marriage thing-”

“I told you I was fine with calling it off, remember?”

“Um, I was actually going to say that I’m all right with it going ahead,” said Kibum. His words tumbled out very quickly, as if he were extraordinarily unsure about saying them. “I want to marry you, and the sooner the better.”

It became, suddenly, Minho’s turn for wide-eyed staring at this astonishing statement.

“What?”

Kibum flushed again as he fidgeted about in his chair. “Well, if the last months have taught me anything, it’s that it is truly ridiculous to deny just _how_ committed to you I am. Besides,” he added, fingers of his uninjured side twitching more nervously still. “If we do get married, you’ll come to live with me year-round, and after this past year, I kind of never want to let you out of my sight again.”

It took Minho’s stunned mind a moment longer to process these words, during which Kibum looked as if he might faint from his anxiety over Minho’s possible response. Then Minho laughed, and if there was a tinge of hysteria in that laugh, it was entirely reasonable given all that he had gone through today.

“Then married we shall be,” he said, smiling. Kibum looked up, startled, then began to cautiously smile as well. Minho rose unsteadily to his feet. “Come, let’s go kick the other three out of Rothbart’s rooms and make use of his lovely, enormous bed to celebrate the occasion.”

“I am _not_ messing around with you on that man’s unwashed sheets,” said Kibum, wrinkling his nose in adorable fashion. He stood as well and took a step forward in order to reach out and wrap an arm around Minho’s waist. “Especially not when you’re shivering this badly. You look as if you’re about to pass out or something. What you need is lots of sleep, not- _nnngh_!”

Minho cut off his fussing with a kiss. He was much pleased when Kibum kissed back with equal fervor. He then found himself extraordinarily grateful when Kibum’s strong arm tightened about his waist as they continued their kiss, for without the support he would surely have crumpled to the floor, given how badly his legs were trembling from the effort of remaining upright.

“Oy, lovebirds,” Jonghyun called from the doorway. “Are you going to make out all night or get some rest or what?”

They broke from the warmth of the kiss with the utmost reluctance.

“If anyone ever calls me a bird again, I’m gonna stab them with a quill,” Minho muttered irritably into Kibum’s ear.

Kibum giggled at this. He then pressed a swift, sweet kiss to Minho’s cheek, whereupon Minho smiled widely in an enormously pleased fashion and forgot all about his avian woes.

~~~

The five of them spent the night curled up together on Rothbart’s bed, which was indeed every bit as enormous as the rest of his grandiose furniture. The next morning, they trekked back through the forest to the city, which proved very difficult due to how weak Minho remained from the backlash of the curse, and how distracted by their newfound humanity the two former animals were. Upon discovering that he could learn to read as a human and thus learn magic more efficiently than by eavesdropping on evil enchanters, Jinki in particular pestered them all with incessant, excited questions the entire way back.

Once they finally did manage to return to the castle, explaining the events of the past two days to the court proved very difficult and tiresome. Fortunately, the magicians backed them up with technical babbling about spell residues, and everyone held Jonghyun to be a voice of sense in the matter. Their account of Rothbart and his nefarious schemes slowly began to be accepted, as did the odd appearance of Jinki and Taemin.

Minho found that although Kibum had saved him from certain death, the curse had nonetheless dug its claws deep and left a lingering, painful weakness in his muscles. Minho thus spent several weeks confined to bed rest as his body recovered from nearly being murdered by magic. This forced inactivity irritated him profoundly, particularly since Kibum’s injuries were sped quickly on their way to healing by the court magicians. The magicians, however, could do nothing for Minho, as his bone-deep exhaustion was magical in nature rather than physical.

“I hate this,” Minho thus restlessly complained to Kibum for the hundredth time. “I’m finally permanently human again! I want to do something _interesting_ , not sit around in bed all day. It’s like I’m still stuck in prison, except then I could at least _fly_.”

Kibum smiled affectionately and petted Minho’s hair. “I bet by _interesting_ , you mean going for awful six-in-the-morning ten mile runs, and _no_ , you can’t do that. You need to recover before doing such horrific activities.”

Minho scowled at him. “Horrific activities, huh? You hypocrite. Taemin told me he sees _you_ doing early morning runs all the time.”

A pretty little flush crossed Kibum’s cheeks.

“I need to stay in shape, don’t I?” he said haughtily, tossing his bangs. “What if someone else tries to kidnap you before you’re fully recovered? I might need to risk my life defending you again. And it’s not like I can do much else with my wrist, you know.”

Minho’s bad humor couldn’t withstand the reminder of just how much Kibum had struggled and risked for him. Nor could it withstand the incredibly hot vision of Kibum expertly wielding a sword and an assortment of knives against a villainous intruder. It was one of Minho’s greatest regrets that he’d been too unconscious to witness and aid Kibum’s fight with Rothbart.

“True,” Minho therefore said, smiling. “Hey, maybe when we’re better we can go running together!”

Kibum snorted. “As if. Once you’re back on your feet, _you’re_ the one who gets to train to play hero and fight giant sorcerous bats. I’m through with being some kind of warrior knight from soldiering ballads.”

Minho’s smile widened at this familiar rant. “Oh, really?” he said, quietly amused at Kibum’s dramatic exasperation.

“Yes, _really_ ,” Kibum said, not noticing the teasing note in Minho’s voice in his indignation. “That’s _your_ job, muscles. _I’m_ gonna be the husband who sits comfortably at home and drinks tea while you chop shit up.”

Minho laughed. He reached out and playfully squeezed Kibum’s bicep.

“I dunno,” he purred, still teasing. “I kinda like you being all muscled and heroic.”

Kibum squirmed in his seat, ears turning red from pleased embarrassment.

“I’m _serious_ ,” he insisted. “I’m not cut out for the whole warrior hero thing. Have you _seen_ how bad my hair has gotten in the past year? It’s because I sweat too much while working out, and it’s _gross_.”

Minho stroked Kibum’s bicep and continued to smile at him. Kibum sighed and rolled his eyes again.

“Okay, fine, maybe I can keep the weapons practice up.” His eyes gleamed. “This means I get to teach you how to embroider properly, of course.”

Minho could not conceal his groan. Kibum smirked and bent to kiss him.

“We begin tomorrow,” Kibum announced with a grin. “Embroidering’s easy. It doesn’t require anything awful like _physical exertion_. Even you can probably manage to learn to cross-stitch without tiring yourself out.”

Minho severely doubted this. But then, if _Kibum_ of all people could somehow learn to become the most skilled warrior in the kingdom in only a little over a year, Minho figured he could probably manage a little embroidery somehow. Eventually.

Very, _very_ eventually.

But then, he had a whole life ahead of him with Kibum to learn.


End file.
